Semi Charmed Life
by Avalonia320
Summary: Post 4x12. With his bipolar disorder stabilized, Ian and Mickey look forward to their future together. But happily ever after doesn't come so easily when there's a wife, baby, and sister with issues of her own to deal with. Add the threat of Terry's imminent return, and the boys have their hands full when they realize love may not be enough after all.
1. The Family Milkovich

**Chapter One: The Family Milkovich**

Sunlight slowly dawned on Chicago, creeping through quiet streets and illuminating rooftops, cascading down to crawl through drawn drapes and blinds and tap on the eyelids of sleepers. Little by little, the Southside sprang to life...streets filling with cars and the shrieks of playing children, windows thrown open and radios turned on, all punctuated by the roar of trains passing by overhead and the occasional siren.

But in the Milkovich household, silence still reigned. Morning was almost gone, and the only sign of activity in the house was the flies buzzing around the dirty dishes in the kitchen.

That was, until the angry shriek of a baby began to echo off the walls, insistent and demanding.

In Mickey's bedroom, there was a muffled groan from the figures who'd pulled the sheets over their heads already to avoid the persistent sunlight. "Mmmmpf. Hey. You."

"No. _You_."

"You!"

"Play for it."

"Fine."

Two hands emerged from beneath the sheets. "One...two...three...ha!" Ian grinned triumphantly. "Paper beats rock. You're up."

Next to him, Svetlana sat up, scowling. "Stupid game. How can paper beat a rock?"

"It covers it, see?" Ian demonstrated, but she just continued to glare.

"If I had a rock, I could bash your orange head," she narrowed her eyes at him.

Ian laughed. "OK. I'm going." With that, he crawled over Svetlana, reaching for his discarded clothing.

"Nice," she said appreciatively, eyeing his ass as he pulled them on.

Ian shook his head at her. "Hey...let him sleep, OK?" With a jerk of his head, he indicated the other figure in the bed, still covered by the sheet.

Svetlana shrugged. As soon as he exited, she yanked the sheet off the bed, exposing Mickey's face to the light. "The fuck?" he groaned.

"Get up, lazy ass. It's late. Baby's awake."

Mickey groaned, opening his eyes fully only to scowl as his wife's face swam into view. "What the fuck are you doing in here again?"

Svetlana shrugged as she climbed out of bed, pulling her silk robe around her. "I got cold."

"It's been 90 degrees at night!"

"Lonely then. Not used to sleeping alone since Nika left."

"She didn't leave, we threw her ass out, remember? Leave it to you to hook up with a crackhead who stole everything she could get her hands on."

"She was fun. I miss her." Svetlana fluffed her hair out.

"Bullshit. We both know you brought her home just to piss me off. Lesbian, my ass."

Svetlana grinned now, stretching. "Maybe I switch teams again. Make an orange baby with your Carrot Boy."

"Get the fuck out!" Mickey threw his pillow at her and Svetlana ducked, then exited, giggling in a most annoying manner.

Mickey glared after her for a moment. God, she was a fucking hassle. They'd reached an uneasy peace these last few months - he helped take care of their kid, albeit reluctantly, and she stayed off his back for the most part. But he liked it best when they were living separate lives, and lately, she'd become a serious Stage 5 clinger, underfoot every time he turned around.

It was all Ian's fault, Mickey thought as he dressed. Once she'd given up on trying to keep him and Mickey apart, it was like the two of them fell in fucking love or some weird shit. During the darkest days, when Ian was practically comatose, she hovered constantly. Without even realizing it, Mickey began to rely on her. If he or Mandy couldn't be there, she was, taking care of Ian just as devotedly as they did, cajoling him to get out of bed, nagging him to take his medication or keep his appointments at the clinic, alternately fussing at him or hitting on him like a slutty mother hen.

And Ian fucking responded to her in a way that he wouldn't to anyone else. He ate the weird Russian food she made for him, he let her take him to his doctor, he laughed at her over the top hooker come-ons. He'd get out of bed to help her take care of Geno when he wouldn't even look at anyone else. As happy as Mickey had been to see pieces of the boy he'd known so well begin to emerge again, he couldn't help but seethe with jealousy. He had tried in every way he could to be everything Ian needed. Why couldn't it have been him that Ian turned to?

It was Mandy who had helped him put into perspective. "She doesn't mean anything to him, Mick. He's not worried about what she thinks, or about disappointing her, or losing her. There's no pressure to act a certain way, no expectations. It's easy for him to be with her," she'd smiled sadly at him. "I know. I miss him too. But he'll come around."

And he had. It had happened in pieces and tiny bits...the day Ian first looked Mickey in the eyes without flinching, when he held Mandy's hand as the three of them walked to the store, when he laughed watching Mickey swear at the top of his lungs as he tried to put Geno's crib together after the kid outgrew his bassinet. And if Mickey had ever doubted how Ian would feel about him once he was better, he got his answer the first time Ian touched his face willingly, how he'd curl into him in the middle of the night, and the day he'd surprised Mickey in the shower, shoving him against the stall and fucking him breathless without a word.

Of course, Svetlana hadn't been the only one interfering in their relationship. Fiona and Lip had been a nonstop presence, in stark contrast to their neglect of Ian in the past. Mickey had tried to be grateful for the support, but the two of them were the nosiest, most opinionated fucks he'd ever had the misfortune to meet. They had something to say about every fucking decision he had made for Ian, and usually it was something along the lines of how he was doing it wrong. Then Ian's asshole therapist had come up with some bullshit about how Ian and Mickey's relationship was co-dependent and toxic and the next thing he knew, Lip and Fiona yanked Ian back home, holding Fiona's legal guardianship over his head until Ian was forced to give in or risk a professional evaluation that could land him in the hospital.

He'd been back home with Fiona and her increasingly full house, Sheila and Frank having been forced to move in after Sheila lost her house to foreclosure, for the past couple of months. Not that this had kept him and Mickey apart - Fiona could force him to go home, with Lip backing her up, but she couldn't stop him from sneaking out or Mickey openly walking in and daring them to do something about it. Eventually she'd relented a bit and things became slightly less hostile between the four of them.

Until three days ago, when Mickey had opened his front door to find Ian standing on the porch, overstuffed duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

"Hey,' he'd said simply as Mickey stared. "I'm back. I mean, if you still want me..."

Mickey had chuckled with amazement and threw the door wide open. "Get the fuck in here, Gallagher."

As he'd helped Ian unpack, he couldn't help but ask. "Fiona and Lip ok with this?"

Ian didn't look up from the clothes he was pulling out of the bag. "I turned eighteen last week, so I officially don't have to give a shit."

"So that means no, then."

"Don't we have something better to do than talk about my family?" Ian tossed the shirt he was holding aside and reached for Mickey, his long fingers gliding along his belt and tugging it out of the loops.

"Hell yeah, we do." With that Mickey shoved Ian back onto the bed, their lips crashing together, and everything else instantly forgotten...

* * *

"Morning, fuckface," Mandy shook Mickey out of his remembrances, sticking her head in the doorway. "Can I borrow the Beatermobile for a few hours?"

Mickey gave her a pointed look. "You think I should lend you my car when you insult it like that? Where you going, anyway? You don't have to work until tonight."

"None of your business," she smirked back.

"As long as your business ain't Kenyatta, it's all yours. You owe me a tank of gas though," Mickey tossed her the keys from his nightstand.

Mandy was frowning now. "I'm done with Kenyatta, asshole. You don't have to keep bringing it up." With that, she flounced out of the room.

"Took you long enough," Mickey mumbled to himself. He and his brothers had run Kenyatta off at gunpoint, but Mandy was stubborn as any Milkovich, and she'd snuck around with him until the night he broke her nose for some imaginary slight and she'd finally had enough. Since then it was business as usual for her, random hook ups every week but no one serious. Thank God, because the last thing any of them needed was more fucking drama.

"Tell me we have coffee," Mickey stumbled into the kitchen, where Mandy was pouring herself a bowl of cereal. Ian wasn't in sight; he was probably helping Svetlana with the baby.

"We do if you make it," Mandy grinned and pointed at the coffee maker.

"Great," Mickey had just peeled the lid off the coffee can when he heard the front door open. Mandy looked up from her bowl of cereal and he tensed automatically until he saw Fiona enter.

"Don't bother to knock or anything," Mandy snickered as she sauntered past to fling herself on the couch, still holding her bowl.

"Why should I? Neither one of you ever do," Fiona shot back. Her eyes met Mickey's. "I came to see Ian."

Mickey cracked his knuckles lightly, feeling the tension return. "Why? So you can have the same conversation you've already had twenty times? It's not going to change shit; it's just going to piss him off."

Fiona sighed, running her fingers through her dark hair. "Mickey, let's not do this again. It's not that I don't appreciate everything you've done for Ian these past few months. You've been incredible, really. But what you've got going on here - you're married, with a baby...that's _huge_. It's not a responsibility that Ian should have to be worrying about right now on top of everything he's going through."

Mickey clenched his teeth, but of course she wasn't done. "I'm not saying that you guys can't - you know, keep seeing each other. I'm just saying I think he needs to be where he can concentrate on his recovery without all the distractions. He needs to be at home."

Mickey didn't trust himself to keep looking at her, knowing it wasn't going to take much for him to explode. He settled for looking at a spot on the wall above her head. "Well, what you want means fuck all, Fiona, because Ian wants to be here. He's 18 now, old enough to decide for himself. And since when has the Gallagher house ever been drama free anyway?"

Mandy snorted at that and Fiona shot her a blistering glare before turning back to Mickey. "At least he'd be safe!" she moved closer to him now, lowering her voice. "Mickey, what are you guys going to do when Terry gets out of jail? It could be any day now. This is _his_ house!"

Mandy stood up abruptly, walking back into the kitchen where they heard her bowl crash into the sink before she stomped to her room, banging the door closed behind her.

Mickey hesitated for a moment, looking after her. "We're moving," he said finally. "Already found an apartment on Grenshaw. It's shitty, but it's got enough room for all of us. Me, Ian, Svetlana, Mandy and the kid too. I'm paying off the deposit on Friday - we can move in next week."

"What?" Fiona stared at him accusingly. "You were just going to up and leave and not say anything to us?"

"Jesus, it's eight blocks away; it's not like I'm dragging him off to Siberia."

Fiona pressed her lips together. "I want to talk to Ian."

Mickey made an exaggeratedly polite sweeping motion towards the bedrooms. "I'm not stopping you."

Fiona started to turn that way but just then Ian and Svetlana emerged from her bedroom, Ian carrying a fully dressed Geno in his arms. The baby was chattering away at them, complete with hand gestures.

"Oh, so_ that's _how it is, huh, Geno?" Ian grinned in response to Geno's incoherent soliloquy and the baby got even more excited, bouncing in his arms and babbling out a loud response. He hadn't noticed Fiona yet, and she studied his carefree demeanor, feeling a sharp ping noticing the way his eyes sparkled in a way they hadn't in months.

When Ian did catch sight of her, his smile immediately faded. He handed Geno to Svetlana and walked over, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Hey, Fiona."

Fiona swallowed hard at his closed expression, her mouth drying up. "You look - happy," she finally managed.

Ian's mouth quirked. "Am. Or at least I was," he gave her a pointed look. "What do you want?"

Fiona looked back at Mickey, who was leaning against the wall, his arms folded. He raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"I just - " she took a deep breath as she faced her brother again. "I just wanted to say congratulations," she forced a smile, blinking back the tears in her eyes. "Mickey says you guys are moving. That's exciting; your own place! You're going to need tons of stuff - furniture, dishes...I'll talk to Sheila. Most of her stuff is in storage since she's living with us; I'm sure she can spare something. Plus we can hit up yard sales, the Salvation Army...make a day of it. What do you say?"

Ian looked stunned for a moment before a wide smile slowly spread across his face. "Um...wow, that would be great. We're pretty much starting out with nothing, so we can use all the help we can get."

"Great!" Fiona nodded, her own smile genuine now. "Well, I'd better get home and start making some calls. I'll talk to you guys tonight, OK?" With that, she hugged Ian tightly. "Don't be a stranger, OK? I kinda got used to seeing you every day."

Ian grinned down at her. "I'll be around. Not moving to Siberia, you know."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mickey smirk at that. "So I hear," she said drily and with a wave, she headed out the door.

She had just reached the gate when she heard the door open again, and turned to see Mickey on the porch.

"Hey," he looked down at her. "Thanks."

She nodded. "I'm still worried," she admitted. "But you're right. This isn't up to me. And...he really does look happy. Just - take care of him, OK?"

"Always."

And with that, Mickey disappeared back into the house.

_In the next chapter, an ordinary family squabble opens up a can of worms, and Ian considers revealing a secret that could change everything for Mickey._

_Thanks so much for reading - this is my first Shameless fanfic and feedback is greatly appreciated!_


	2. A Slippery Slope

_Summary:_

_A playful morning turns sour when Mickey inadvertently sticks his foot in his mouth with both Mandy and Ian. But even that ensuing argument shouldn't have been able to trigger the landslide that it does..._

**Chapter 2: A Slippery Slope**

"Hey, you gonna sleep all day?"

Ian opened his eyes to see Mickey leaning over him.

"Hmmm…" he mumbled, strongly considering answering yes. After all, he had no place to be. It could be just another lazy morning, no hurry to get up. He'd been back at the Kash and Grab for a couple of weeks now, and it was his first full day off. He didn't know quite how to feel about his inglorious return to the world of minimum wage. At least he was back to making an income again, putting some money into the pot and not feeling like such a worthless leech, letting everyone else take care of him.

Another peek through his nearly closed eyelids allowed him to register the barely masked anxiety on Mickey's face. Great. If he stayed in bed, Mickey was going to start wringing his hands, worried that Ian was crashing again. Fuck being bi-polar; you couldn't do one normal ass thing like sleep in without people losing their shit.

"OK, I'm up." Ian sat up in bed. "Happy now?"

"So what's the news?" Mickey stood up, yawning. "Got any big plans for your day off?"

Ian smiled slightly, knowing full well that what Mickey was really asking was if _they _had any plans for today. "Not for a while. Promised Fiona I'd watch Liam later. It'll give me a chance to hang out with Debbie and Carl too. Want to come?"

Mickey considered the thrilling possibility of running into Fiona and getting Lecture #893897 about who knows the fuck what this time. "Nah, I'm going to hang out here and just start packing or some shit. We gotta be ready to haul ass out of here soon. Plus Svetlana and I have to be at the Alibi by two."

"Whatever. First you don't let me sleep in, then you bail on me. If you're going to leave me to face my family alone, you're going to have to make it up to me."

Mickey grinned broadly as Ian grabbed him, wrestling him backwards towards the bed. Despite the fact that they'd been going at it for most of the night, he still found himself rock hard as soon as his boyfriend's hands made their way to his waist. Thank fuck for being twenty years old - youth was nature's viagra.

Just as things were starting to get good, their partially ajar bedroom door banged fully open to reveal Mandy, hands on her hips. The two of them jumped up from the bed, Mickey swearing loudly. "Get the fuck out!"

"Hell no! You two already kept me awake until the ass crack of dawn with your all night fuck fest. If I'm not getting any, I don't see why I should have to listen to your play by play."

Mickey gave her a look that could peel wall paper as he picked up his discarded shirt. "Thanks for the cockblock, bitch."

Mandy saluted him with a middle finger in return.

"I take it your 'date' yesterday was a bust?" Ian tried hard to interject some genuine empathy in his voice, which wasn't easy, considering she was directly responsible for his currently raging blue balls.

"Please," Mandy rolled her eyes. "That two minute motherfucker wasn't even worth changing my underwear for. I might as well have stayed in bed with my Trojan Twister."

"Jesus, Mandy, I do not need to hear that shit!" Mickey winced violently as entirely unwanted mental imagery of his sister and her toys rapidly disintegrated what was left of his morning wood.

"Yeah, well, I didn't need to hear you moaning 'suck it, Gallagher' at 3 o'fucking clock in the morning either."

"Christ!" Mickey considered the highly likely possibility that he may never be able to get hard again in his life unless he could immediately erase all memory of this conversation. He looked at Ian. "Remind me why we're taking her with us when we move again?"

Ian chuckled at that, but to both their surprise, the color immediately drained from Mandy's face.

"Fuck you," she spat, and left the room, slamming the door behind her.

Mickey immediately yanked it back open to see her disappearing down the hallway. "Mandy, c'mon, that was a fucking joke!"

The only response was the slamming of her bedroom door. Bewildered, he looked at Ian. "What the fuck has been up with her lately?"

Ian shook his head. "Don't know," he sighed. "I'm worried about her."

"Well, don't," Mickey shook his head. "She'll get over whatever it is. No need for you to stress yourself out."

Ian frowned, following Mickey as he walked into the living room. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"What?" Mickey stopped, confused by Ian's sudden defensive tone.

" 'Don't stress myself out?' Like I can't handle it?"

"Fuck, Ian, that's not what I said!"

"But that's what you meant, isn't it? You're just like everyone else - treating me like I'm too fucking delicate to deal with anything!" Ian crossed his arms, staring at Mickey accusingly.

Mickey bit his lip hard. Shit, it had been a while since Ian had had a sudden mood swing like this and he wasn't quite sure how to handle it without making things worse. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask Ian if he'd been taking his meds, but that would have been like throwing lit dynamite on a powder keg.

While he struggled to form a good enough response to calm Ian down before shit started getting real, Svetlana appeared.

"Hey, Big Boy," she moved immediately to Ian's side, slapping his ass casually. "Get Geno's bottle while I make coffee, yeah?"

Ian stared down Mickey for another excruciatingly long second before he looked at her. "Fine," he snapped, turning towards the kitchen.

Svetlana shot Mickey a faint smile before she followed Ian, and he wondered suddenly if she'd intervened on purpose. Nah, probably not...if she'd realized Ian was about to go off on him, she probably would have made popcorn and settled in to watch the show.

Sighing, he rubbed his eyes, considering how fast this morning had gone downhill, and sincerely hoped the rest of the day would get better.

But knowing his luck, fat fucking chance.

In the kitchen, Ian leaned over the counter, trying to slow his too rapid breathing. He closed his eyes, struggling for calm and trying to remember the relaxation exercise his therapist had taught him for moments like these.

The pot of water on the stove began to steam, and Ian dropped Geno's freshly made bottle into it to warm, noting with relief as he did so that he was starting to feel better. The sudden rage that had taken hold of him was quickly fading, but now he felt like shit, knowing he'd overreacted and probably scared the hell out of Mickey for no good reason.

It was just that this was the same bullshit that made him pack his bags and leave home almost as soon as he was legally able. Ever since Fiona and Lip had realized he was bipolar, they had treated him like an emotionally warped child, fragile and incompetent and unable to make a single fucking decision for himself. It was like all they saw when they looked at him was his diagnosis. No - all they saw was **Monica**, like her spirit had descended and swallowed the Ian they knew whole. And no matter how much he tried to let them know that he was still there, that he wasn't just doomed to repeat her mistakes, it never seemed like they got it.

Ian turned off the stove and sighed, taking Geno's bottle out of the hot water and squirting a few drops on his wrist to check the temperature.

"Hey,' Svetlana touched his arm lightly. "Here," she gestured to the cup of coffee she was holding. "For you."

Ian sipped it in silence for a moment while she watched him. "Better now?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

"Good," she jerked her head back towards the living room. "He means well, you know. He's just...a little stupid."

Ian chuckled despite himself. "Yeah. Me too."

Svetlana conceded that point with a small grin thrown over her shoulder at him as she left the kitchen.

Ian set down his cup and picked up the bottle. He'd talk to Mickey about it all later, once he was sure he'd be able to handle it, and they'd work it out. At least he knew that unlike his older siblings, Mickey would actually listen.

From the living room, he heard Geno start up a loud, insistent babble and he grabbed the bottle before it could turn into crying and hurried into the living room, only to stop at the sight before him.

Geno was in his swing, banging on the tray excitedly as he jabbered at Mickey, who was standing in front of him, just looking down at the boy. Geno seemed excited by this unexpected attention, probably more so because Ian could count on one hand the times he'd seen Mickey willingly interact with the kid.

Dissatisfied with Mickey's lack of response to his verbal endeavors, Geno tossed the toy he'd been shaking back and forth, a set of chewable plastic keys. It bounced off of Mickey's foot. As soon as the baby realized that throwing his toy meant that he didn't have it anymore, his lip jutted out and tears appeared in his blue eyes. "Bah bah bah buh!" he wailed, stretching out his arms helplessly.

Mickey bent down and picked up the toy, started to return it, then pulled back slightly as Geno reached for them, playfully shaking them just out of reach. Geno grinned broadly, all signs of distress gone, swiping futilely in the keys' direction.

Mickey smiled faintly back. "All yours, short stuff." With that he tossed the keys on the tray and Geno snatched them up immediately, happily chewing and drooling within seconds.

Mickey stood still for several seconds, watching him, then hesitantly he reached down and touched the baby's head.

A sudden buzzing interrupted the moment, and Mickey pulled away to slap at his pocket, pulling out his phone. Ian ducked back into the kitchen before Mickey realized he'd been watching him. Once Mickey had moved away Ian walked into Geno's line of sight, and the baby immediately tossed away his toy again, holding out his little arms impatiently.

"Give me a few minutes, OK?" Ian handed Geno the bottle and leaving him temporarily content, walked into Mickey's bedroom, closing the door tightly behind him.

"Damn,' he muttered to himself, pacing the small room. "Damn, damn, damn." Really, he didn't know why he was so surprised. Mickey tried to hide it, but deep down, he was a soft touch. And Geno…well, that fucking kid got more adorable every day. Just being around him was generally enough to lift Ian's spirits, and truly, it shouldn't have been odd at all that even Mickey would began to succumb to his unstoppable charm.

What made Ian the most frustrated of all is that this should have been a good thing. It should be absolutely fucking wonderful that Mickey was letting down his walls, that Geno might actually have a chance at being raised by a father who loved him. The boy deserved that. He deserved so much more than this whole fucked up situation that he'd been born into.

But Ian couldn't think about that now, even if it was killing him to put Geno at the bottom of his priorities. Because now he had to consider what Mickey deserved.

And the unavoidable fact was, what he deserved was the truth.

A truth that Ian had known for weeks, because his dumb ass had to get curious, overthinking every fucking thing, and relentlessly sniffing around until he dug up the skeletons without once considering the consequences. If he'd just left everything alone, he wouldn't have to be standing here now, seriously considering dropping a bomb that was going to blow his new family to hell.

The internal debate going on in his head right now was making his earlier rage seem laughable. He couldn't just keep going over every single possible scenario in his mind until his thoughts raced so fast that he couldn't stand it. He'd already thought this through a dozen times, and not a damn thing was getting any clearer.

Ian made himself cross the room once more, going to the closet, opening the door, and reaching underneath the balled up clothes on the top shelf to extract the manila envelope he'd hidden there.

"Damn," he whispered one more time and with that, he turned to face to beard the lion in his den.

There was no turning back now. All he could do was pray they'd all survive the fallout...


	3. Free

Summary:

When Ian reveals the truth about Geno's paternity, he's not prepared for what he learns in return.

**Chapter Three: Free**

Nervously, Ian tapped the envelope against his open palm as he walked back into the living room. Mandy had emerged as well, and she sat on the couch now, passing a cigarette back and forth with Svetlana. She shot him a cold glance when he looked at her. "Don't even start with me," she warned.

"Wasn't gonna," he assured her. _Not now, anyway. I've got somebody else's life to blow to shit__,_ he thought to himself grimly.

He was still tapping the envelope on his palm, and Mandy eyed it curiously. "What's that?"

Svetlana followed her gaze, and when she caught sight of what he was holding, she paled immediately. "No," she nearly whispered. "Ian…not yet. A little more time, please."

Her desperate expression was nearly tearing his heart out. How could he do this to her? But if he didn't, then the person he was lying to was Mickey, and he was backed into a corner now. He had to choose.

"Svetlana, the longer we wait, the harder it's going to get. We've got to tell him. He has a right to know."

"What are you talking about? Who has the right to know what?" Mandy's head swiveled back and forth between them.

Ian ignored her, eyes locked on Svetlana. Her shoulders slumped in resignation. "He'll kill me and throw Yvgeny out on the street."

"No," Ian shook his head, dropping down onto the couch next to her. "He wouldn't do that to you, to either one of you." His reassurances were empty, and they both knew it. Truth be told, he had no idea how Mickey was going to react to this, only that it was going to be a fucking mess. Dammit. If worse came to worse, he'd take Svetlana and Geno to Fiona's for a few days, squeeze them in somehow, until he found someplace else for them.

God, he should just stop right now. But he couldn't. He had to tell Mickey, and he had to admit that it was partly out of pure selfishness. He just couldn't take the guilt of keeping this secret anymore, of watching Mickey struggle every day to shoulder a burden that was never his to begin with.

Horrified understanding was beginning to dawn on Mandy's face. "Holy fucking shit…" she breathed, staring at the envelope. "It's Geno, isn't it? He's not…he's not Mickey's, is he?"

Ian's knuckles tightened on the envelope til they showed white. Neither he or Svetlana answered. They didn't need to. Their expressions said it all.

Mandy turned to freeze Svetlana in an accusing stare. "What the fuck? Do you even know whose it is?"

Svetlana looked away. Her hands were beginning to shake.

Ian smiled grimly. "Let me put it this way. He's still a Milkovich."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Mandy jumped up, her voice rising, and Ian tossed a warning glance towards the back of the house where Mickey had disappeared. She lowered her voice, but her expression was still blazing as she turned on her sister in law. "He's Terry's? And you knew! You tried to pass him off as Mickey's!"

"No!" Ian jumped between the women before Mandy could lunge forward. "She didn't know. At least, not for sure."

"I thought maybe…" Svetlana's voice was still barely above a whisper. "I hoped I was wrong."

"Does Terry know?" Mandy demanded.

Svetlana shook her head slowly. "No…not really. He thought maybe it was his too, but he didn't care. He told me I would marry Mickey no matter what. He said he'd kill me if I ever said anything." She turned her face away from them. "Orange Boy here guessed. He talked me into letting Geno be tested." She turned back, giving him a resentful look that told him she deeply regretted doing so now.

Mandy was about to speak again but snapped her mouth shut abruptly when Mickey strode into the room. "Hey, you guys – change of plans. That was Kev. A boatload of sailors on furlough just showed up at the Alibi looking to get blued, screwed and tattooed, and we gotta help 'em out with the first two." He grinned before turning to his wife. "Go put on something slutty…ier. And call all the girls that are off shift and get them down there too. Kev says there's three guys to every girl right now."

Looking greatly relieved, Svetlana jumped up, but Ian held out a hand to stop her. "Wait a minute. Mickey, we need to talk."

"Can't right now, Ian. We've got to get moving. Hey, do you mind taking Geno with you today? I'll drop you guys off – I can take you to work too, Mandy, but you gotta get ready right now."

"Sure, but Mickey, wait a minute…" Ian stepped in Mickey's path, cutting him off.

Mickey sighed. "Look, Ian, I'm sorry about earlier, OK?"

"No, Mickey, it's OK. It wasn't your fault. But that's not what I need to talk to you about. Please. It's important."

"So is this!" Mickey gentled his voice at Ian's serious expression. "Look, if all goes well today, we'll make enough money to cover the rest of the deposit on the apartment. You know they're only holding it til Friday. This is our chance to get out of here. We can't blow it now."

"I know. But this can't wait. Not anymore."

"Fine," Mickey's voice was exasperated. "Lay it on me."

Ian ran a nervous hand through his hair. Now that he had Mickey's attention, the words had evaporated into thin air. Before he could completely lose his courage, he thrust the envelope at Mickey. Next to them, Svetlana had frozen like a rabbit contemplating a deadly snare.

"The fuck is this?" Mickey took the envelope reluctantly.

"Just…open it." Ian closed his eyes.

With an impatient snort, Mickey opened the envelope, pulling out the white printed paper. There was no sound at all as he gave it the most cursory of glances, rolled his eyes, and shoved it back at Ian. "Fascinating. Can we go before the sailors drink themselves limp?"

"Mickey, you have to actually fucking read it!" Ian followed Mickey as the shorter man crossed the room to pick up Geno's diaper bag.

Mickey dropped the bag next to the baby swing, and picked Geno up, handing him to Ian. "Ian, can you please give me a hand here and get his shit together?"

"Mickey, come on!" Ian took Geno automatically even as he protested the change of subject. "Are you even comprehending what's going on here? Do you know what this is?" He waved the paper at Mickey with his free hand.

Mickey turned back to him, giving him a deliberate stare. "Funny enough, it looks just like the paternity test I already did two months ago." His mouth twitched as Ian, Mandy, and Svetlana all gasped in unison. "Sorry, Sherlock, did I ruin the surprise?"

"You knew?" Svetlana choked out before Ian could even begin to frame the words.

Mickey gave her a hard look. "Did you think I was that stupid? I fuck someone who bangs guys for a living one lousy time, and I'm the lucky donor of the one wriggly that knocks her up? You really thought I'd just swallow that because you said so?"

"Mickey," Mandy stepped forward, her eyes dark with concern. "That's not all. Do you know who the father really is?"

The faint amusement on Mickey's face disappeared, and his mouth quirked into a bitter line. "Dear old Dad…the gift that just keeps on giving. I figured it was something like that when he was so fucking set on us getting married. Guess he thought he was keeping it in the family either way." He exhaled loudly. "So if nobody has any more Maury Povich shit to throw my way, can we please get out of here?"

"But Mickey – "

Ian put a hand on his shoulder but Mickey shoved it off. "But nothing, Ian!" He exploded, and the three of them jumped. Geno let out a startled wail, and Ian hurriedly bounced the baby to soothe him.

"What do you think this changes?" Mickey demanded as they continued to stare. His hands were clenched. "What did you all think I was going to do? Throw him out? Let Terry have him?" He rounded on Svetlana. "You remember what you walked into when you first came through that front door? The reason why there was any chance at all that Geno could have been mine? You want the man responsible for that to have open access to your kid? Seriously, you want him to have one single fucking second where Geno is at his mercy?"

Frantically, Svetlana shook her head. Her face was so white that her bright makeup stood out in vivid contrast like a clown mask.

"Then there's nothing to talk about. Give me that." Mickey snatched the test back from Ian and picked up a lighter from the coffee table. A snap later, and the paper was in flames. He strode into the kitchen, throwing it into the sink to burn itself out.

Mickey came back to face the three of them. "Everybody thinks Geno's mine. Nobody needs to know any different. Everyone clear on that?"

"Mickey..." Ian touched his shoulder, feeling how rigidly his boyfriend's muscles were clenched. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

"What _I_ want?" Mickey barked out a laugh. "You think I wanted any of this?" He rubbed his forehead. "All I know is I may never win any Father of the Year awards, but even if I sat around scratching my balls for the next twenty years, I'm still going to be better than Terry. And I'm not letting that bastard anywhere near Geno. He's still blood." With that, he scowled around the room. "Why the hell is everyone still standing around? What part of we need to go do you people not understand?"

Svetlana remained right where she was, staring at Mickey slightly openmouthed as if she'd never seen him before. Next to her, Mandy wore a matching expression, and Ian was pretty sure if he could look in a mirror right now he'd see the look in triplicate.

Mickey threw up his hands. "Fine, then! Everyone who still wants to be here when Terry gets out of jail, stay right where you fucking are!"

That did it. Ian began hurriedly throwing diapers and formula in the bag and both Svetlana and Mandy jumped up and headed off to their respective bedrooms to change.

"Hey, Ian…"

Ian looked up to see Mickey stopped next to him, his expression uncertain. "Look, I need to know. Are you in or out?"

Bewildered, Ian stood up, slinging the diaper bag over his shoulder. "You seriously need to ask?"

Mickey started to reply but just then Svetlana emerged from the bedroom, wearing a skin tight black dress split nearly down to her navel, freshly applied crimson lipstick, and wafting clouds of perfume. She made a beeline directly for Mickey and before he could stop her, she threw her arms around him and pressed her lips to his cheek.

"Fuck! Get off!" Mickey yelped, squirming out of her grip and frantically rubbing at the crimson mark she'd left on his cheek. Ian couldn't help but laugh at his expression; he looked just like a little kid getting unwanted cuddles from a handsy grandma. "Dammit, now I'm going to smell like whore all day!"

"A step up for you then, yes?" Svetlana smirked.

"OK, let's go," Mandy was back, wearing her godawful Waffle Cottage uniform.

Svetlana picked up her purse and started to follow her sister in law out the door. Ian gathered up Geno and started to follow as well but Mickey grabbed his arm. "Hang on a minute."

Ian stopped, confused. "Thought you said there wasn't anything to talk about, Mick. This doesn't change anything for me, either."

"Yeah, but…" Mickey rocked back and forth on his heels. "Think about it. You know I can't divorce her, right? Not until we've been married long enough for her to be legal."

Ian sucked in a deep breath. "How long?"

"Dunno," Mickey shrugged. "Years, probably. Asshole's looking into it for me."

"Lip?" Ian's voice rose in shock and he nearly lost his grip on the baby.

"Yeah, who do you think hooked me up with the paternity test?"

"What? You went to Lip with this, but you didn't tell me?" Ian could feel the red flush creeping up from the back of his neck to spread across his face. "Why couldn't you come to me? This just another thing you thought I was too mentally fragile to handle?"

"Hey, I'm not the only one who was keeping secrets here, remember?" Mickey shot back. He sighed then, shoulders slumping. "Ian, that's not why I didn't tell you. I just – wasn't in a hurry to have this conversation."

"What conversation is that, exactly?" Ian demanded.

"You wanted me to be free, remember? And I'm not. I'm the furthest from free you can imagine. I got a wife who's just as thrilled to be stuck with me as I am with her and a kid whose life is starting out like a fucking Jerry Springer episode. It's a lot, OK? And I figured that once you realized that, you'd – "

"Leave," Ian finished. "Really, Mickey? That's what you think of me?"

Mickey slumped against the wall. "No. I don't know. I mean, who could blame you for not choosing this fucking mess?"

"You're not the only one with baggage here, remember?" Ian shifted Geno to one shoulder and placed his free hand on Mickey's shoulder. "Mickey, you _are_ free. You're free to be with me. That's all I ever wanted."

"Yeah?" Mickey's eyes met his and Ian leaned forward, letting his hand slide from Mickey's shoulder to his face.

"Yeah, dumbass. I'm in. That's my answer." With that, he angled his head down, his lips nearing Mickey's.

Just as the kiss began, a loud car horn blared outside, followed by Mandy's bellow. "HEY ASSHOLES, WE'RE FUCKING MELTING OUT HERE! LET'S GO!"

Reluctantly, they pulled apart and simultaneously, they began to laugh. Geno waved his hands, startled at the sound, and then he began to laugh too, which only made them laugh harder.

Yeah, it was a lot, but they'd figure it out. Together.

* * *

In the next chapter, it's sibling time as Ian turns to Lip for advice on what happens next, and Mickey and Mandy finally talk about what Terry's done to them.

Thanks so much for reading! Feedback, as always, is greatly appreciated!


	4. Your Blood, My Blood

Summary:

Lip struggles to reconnect with Ian; meanwhile, Mickey and Mandy have a painful conversation about their father. TW: (non graphic) discussion of sexual abuse/rape.

**My Blood, Your Blood**

"You gonna actually say something, or are you going to just sit there and look smug?" Ian demanded of his older brother, staring at him from across the counter in the Gallagher kitchen. He'd finished speaking several minutes ago, detailing for Lip everything that had happened this morning, how he'd revealed to Mickey that Geno wasn't his son, only to find that Mickey (and Lip) had already known. It was hard enough dealing with the fact that his brother, of all people, had been sneaking around and sharing secrets with Mickey behind his back. And now the fact that Lip was just sitting there, open textbook in front of him, smirking around his loosely held cigarette, was really starting to get on Ian's nerves.

"Your life is a fucking soap opera, you know that?" Lip grinned as he snapped his textbook closed. "At least it's all out in the open now. And you knew already…that's priceless. He was freaking out about telling you, you know. Think he was afraid you were going to bolt." He paused for a moment. "I kinda had hoped you would, to be honest."

Ian shot him a scathing look and Lip held up his hands in mock surrender. "OK, I get it. You're in it for the long haul."

Ian waited for a long moment before plunging in. "So, tell me. How much of a clusterfuck is this?"

Lip sighed, shaking his head. "Well, it's not great. Svetlana is here illegally. Mickey marrying her helps, but it's not necessarily a get out of deportation free card. Remember Estefania? The good news is that INS doesn't know Svetlana exists. Since she and your boyfriend are up to their eyeballs in illegal activity, I suggest you all try to keep it that way. Believe it or not, Immigration is not going to find the saga of the pimp and his hooker wife all that endearing."

He paused for a moment, taking another drag of his cigarette. "Once they get their act together, go legit or at least get better at creating the illusion that they are, that's when it's going to get real. Svetlana is going to need a green card, and that's going to require proof of a legitimate marriage and residency. Ian, this shit is complicated. It's going to be a minimum of two years before he's legally free of her, and that's the best case scenario. Hope you didn't have your heart set on him putting a ring on it, because you're going to have a hell of a wait."

"Jesus, Lip!" Ian nearly choked. "You think I'm worried about that? I just turned eighteen; I'm not even thinking about that shit!"

"Alright, don't have a panic attack," Lip chuckled. He paused a moment. "But you two are serious though…moving into your own place together. That's a big fucking deal."

He shook the ash off his cigarette, contemplating Ian for a moment. "It feels different now, you know, having you gone. When you left the first time, just fucking disappeared, I never thought it was for good. Was just waiting for you to come walking back in with some bullshit story about your journey of self-revelation. Even having you over at the Milkovich homestead still felt like you were just on a long sleepover. But now…it's real. You've left the nest for good. You're not coming back."

Ian was quiet, not sure how to respond, but Lip didn't seem to be waiting for a reply. "Look, I know Fiona and I have been giving you a lot of shit about not being ready. Maybe it was just us who weren't ready to let you go." He stubbed out his cigarette before meeting Ian's eyes again. "You've always been our go-to guy, you know that? We took it for granted. And then you were gone, and there was just this – hole." He exhaled shakily. "I hate that it's been weird between us. We haven't really talked in months. I just - I've really fucking missed you, Ian. I need my best friend back."

Ian swallowed hard, not sure if he trusted himself to speak, "I've been here, Lip," his voice was rough. "I'm not Monica. I'm still right fucking here."

"Hey, I know that," Lip leaned over, putting his hand underneath Ian's chin and forcing his brother to look him in the eyes. "I know that now. I won't forget it again. I promise."

He released him then, and for several minutes they were both quiet, avoiding each other's eyes before things got really sappy.

Finally Lip leaned forward again. "Speaking of people I may have underestimated…Mickey...he's..." he scratched his ear. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think he's been good for you."

Ian broke into a wide smile. "You don't have to tell me that."

"Yeah, I know, you moony eyed sucker," Lip laughed. "Just don't tell him I said so, OK? He might get the idea I like him or something, and I'm comfortable with our antagonistic status quo." He stood up for a moment, turning to look over his shoulder into the living room, checking to make sure Liam was still watching tv with Debbie and Carl, before turning back.

"Speaking of Milkovichs…how's Mandy?"

Ian's smile faded. "She…" he rubbed the back of his neck. "She's still having a hard time with everything. Lot's happened, you know…all the shit with her dad, Kenyatta, just everything. I don't know."

"You sound worried," Lip studied him carefully. "It's bad, isn't it?"

Ian shrugged. "Yeah," he admitted quietly. "I think it is."

Lip frowned, lighting a new cigarette. "Maybe I should call her."

Ian glared at him. "No fucking way. You know she's still not over the way you broke her heart. Plus, you're with Amanda now. She deserves better than to be your side piece."

"I meant as a friend!" Lip protested.

"Oh please," Ian scoffed. "You have never been just friends with a girl in your entire life."

Lip cocked his head in silent admission of this undeniable fact. Ian leaned forward. "Lip, I'm serious. You're my brother and I love you, but if you start fucking with Mandy again, I will break your kneecaps. You think I'm joking? Try me."

"Jesus, I get it, OK?" Lip waved him off. "Just wish there was something I could do, you know?"

"Yeah," Ian frowned. "Me too."

* * *

"Hey. How did it go with the sailors?"

Mickey looked at from the towering pile of clothes he'd been trying to sort through to see Mandy framed in his bedroom doorway.

"Let me put it this way. It was the girls who had a guy in every port tonight," He grinned.

"Ugh," Mandy made a face. "I'm surprised Svetlana can even walk."

Mickey snorted. "Yeah, like those military pay grade cannon fodder could afford her."

"What?" Mandy looked at him curiously. "You stick a premium pussy sticker on her and raise her asking price or something?"

"Nah. I promoted her. She's managerial now; I put her in charge of the girls. Saves me a load of fucking migraines. She deals with all their shit and I just collect the money and play the heavy."

"Oh my God," Mandy stared at him in disbelief, not fooled in the slightest. "You had some kind of crisis of conscience over pimping out your wife! Who the fuck are you and what the hell did you do with my brother?"

"Shut the fuck up," Mickey threw the jeans he'd been about to pack at her. "She's my wife. And I gotta think about Geno, right? How the hell would I ever explain to him that I sell his mom for fifty bucks a pop?"

"You've gone soft," Mandy snickered. When he didn't answer, she nudged him playfully in the shoulder. "C'mon, I'm just giving you shit. You know, this whole thing with Geno...it's pretty cool. What you're doing for him."

Mickey sighed. God, he did not need anyway else trying to have A Very Special Moment with him today. "Yeah. Whatever."

Mandy came all the way into the room, closing the door behind her. "I'm going to be here, you know? I'll help. I mean, he's my brother too."

"Thanks."

She didn't say anything else right away, and Mickey went back to throwing stacks of shirts into the cardboard box at his feet.

"Can't wait to get out of here, can you?"

Mickey just raised his eyebrows. Like that wasn't fucking obvious.

Mandy was quiet again for a moment, inching closer once more. Mickey could feel himself tensing. Something was on her mind, and he had a pretty serious feeling that he wasn't going to like it.

"You said you only had sex with Svetlana the one time." Her voice was flat.

"So?" Mickey pushed the now full box away from him with his foot, looking around for the duct tape to seal it with.

"He made you do it, didn't he?"

Mickey dropped the last shirt and straightened up. "Who?"

"Terry. He made you fuck his hooker mistress because he found out about you and Ian."

Fuck. "Yeah." Mickey said flatly, and silently prayed she wasn't going to ask for the details.

It was clear from the sickened look on Mandy's face that she didn't need him to fill in the blanks. After a moment, she sat down next to him on the bed. "I should have known. I just assumed she was some random you'd been fucking around with. I wish I had been there for you more."

"You would have been if you'd known," Mickey looked at her. "It's not like I told you. We just - we don't talk about this kinda shit."

"No, I guess we don't," Mandy's voice was devoid of emotion. She looked down, picking at tiny balls of lint on his comforter.

"Maybe we should."

Mandy's eyes flickered to him at that, and he saw the flash of alarm. "Mickey. Don't."

He didn't want to. With everything in him, he wanted to drop it now and let the two of them bury it all like they usually did, but where the fuck had that gotten them? Hiding all their wounds and scars from the world, and for what? So their father could get away with it again and again and again?

"Mandy, I know, OK? I know what he did to you. I know about the abortion."

Mandy stared straight ahead, her face rigid. "Ian told you, didn't he?"

"Yeah," he admitted. "But I knew before then, even if I didn't want to believe it. I pretended I didn't, but we all heard him going into your room in the middle of the night. I knew what was happening, and I didn't do shit. I'm your brother. I should have protected you. Fuck," he rubbed his eyes, knowing he couldn't hide the tears that had sprung up even as he saw her own begin to roll down her cheeks.

"I should have killed him when I had the chance," he choked out. "For you; for all of us."

"C'mon, Mickey," Mandy protested, swiping at her wet cheeks. "He's still our dad."

"Fuck that shit!" Mickey stood up, feeling the rage began to bubble in his veins. "He's nothing to me now except the piece of shit who contributed half of my DNA. He can fucking rot, far as I'm concerned."

"Well, I'm glad it's so easy for you," Mandy spat at him. "A year ago, you would have done anything to please him. You _did_ do anything, and the proof is that cheap ass ring on your left hand. Well, I can't turn on and off how I feel just because you've decided now that he's a bad guy. At least he didn't walk out on us. He kept us all together."

"Are you fucking kidding me? You think he deserves some kind of pat in the back because he stuck around to twist us up so bad in the heads that we accepted anything he did? You know who does that? Cult leaders do that. That's some David Koresh/Warren Jeffries type shit, and we were never his kids, we were his followers. It was just control."

"Yeah, I get it. Thanks, Mickey." Mandy stood up. Her arms were wrapped around her chest, and she was trembling. "He never loved us, right? That's what you're trying to say. He never loved _me_. Thanks for making that so clear. I really needed you to point out that there's yet another person that I gave up everything for who never gave a shit."

"Hey, Mandy, come on - " Mickey reached for her but Mandy shoved past him and out the bedroom door, slamming it violently shut behind her. "Dammit!" He kicked the box he'd been packing and it fell over spilling the contents on to the floor. "Fuck!" He turned and slammed his fist into the wall over and over again, feeling the skin split over his knuckles.

"Mickey, stop!" Svetlana had come running in; he could hear her speaking to his back, but he didn't turn to look; just kept hitting the wall. The plaster cracked and dented, paint chips falling in chunks to the floor. Blood from his knuckles was running down the wall in crimson streams. It wasn't enough. He could tear this whole fucking house down right now and it wouldn't be enough to relieve the rage blazing through him.

"Mickey!" Svetlana grabbed his shoulder, and with surprising strength, she yanked him away from the wall. "Stop!"

When she touched him, the rage boiled over and in a second, before he'd realized it, he had shoved her against the opposite wall, his fist a centimeter from her face, before he realized what was happening. He froze then, breathing heavily. "Shit!" He released her just as abruptly. "Sorry," he muttered. "I didn't - sorry."

"It's OK," Svetlana's voice was calm. She moved towards him, kept coming even as he backed up, and caught his hand in her own, turning it to survey the damage. "You're hurt."

He tried to yank his hand away, but her grip tightened on his wrist. "Let me clean it up. I'll get bandages. And I will call Ian. He needs to come home, I think."

Mickey nodded then. "Yeah," his voice was still breathy, needy, and he hated it. "Thanks."

Svetlana nodded. She gave his hand one final squeeze, and swept out of the room.

Mickey sat there, waiting, listening to the blood pound in his head so loud it drowned out everything else, and knew only one thing.

If he ever saw his father again, one of them wasn't walking away.

* * *

So...yeah. This was a tough chapter to write. I hope I did it justice.

As always, feedback is greatly appreciated!


	5. Worth

The Grenshaw Courtyard Apartments.

The title was supposed to conjure up pictures of a lushly landscaped, almost tropical feeling villa, with a vast vista of green, topped by brightly colored flowers swaying in a light breeze.

What it was really was a half square shaped, four story sprawling brick apartment complex painted in a hideous combination of light yellow with olive green trim. Inside its multi unit buildings surrounding a square, barren patch of dirt (the alleged courtyard) lay a text book example of both health and building code violations. This was home to those who didn't have the luxury of expecting any better: junkies, street dealers, single welfare moms, and seniors whose social security pittance was a laughable reward for a lifetime of hard work.

So yeah...it wasn't much. But for now, it was home.

Mickey had been there for two days now, and he still wasn't used to the feeling of freedom, looking at the scarred popcorn ceiling over their heads, the cracked and water stained walls enclosing them, and feeling absolutely fucking fantastic about it. It was _theirs_. Not Terry's, not Fiona's, but theirs.

It was already well past dark as Mickey finally made his way up the stairs to their second floor unit, struggling with the uncooperative lock until Mandy swung it open from the other side. "Hey. About time."

For a moment, the siblings silently regarded each other. To say things had been awkward between them since their confrontation over Terry would be an extreme understatement. Mandy hadn't spoken to him for days afterwards. When she finally did, she was...well, she was fucking _cold_. Perfectly polite, the few times she'd had no other choice then to interact with him, which was the weirdest part of all. Milkoviches didn't do polite. It was a sure sign of the apocalypse.

He'd never admit it, but he really missed her.

"Hey," he said in return, still standing in the hallway in front of his own damn door, like a stranger who needed permission to enter. "I, uh - ' God, when did talking to his own sister get so weird? "Got some good news."

"Yeah, I'm sure Ian will be happy to hear whatever it is," Dismissal was clear in Mandy's voice as she stepped aside to let him pass.

Mickey ducked inside, only to immediately find his nose assailed by the smell of cooking meat. Inside the small apartment, it was even hotter than it was outside, heat from their tiny kitchenette rolling out in waves from the multiple pots and pans on the stove.

"What the fuck is this?"

"Dinner," Svetlana looked up from the stove, wooden spoon in hand. "Beef stroganoff."

"Beef strogawhat?"

Svetlana just rolled her eyes. "Never mind."

"Isn't it a little hot to be sweating over the stove?" Mickey was already pulling off his long sleeved overshirt to reveal the blue tank top underneath, feeling sweat start to trickle down his back. "You're making it feel like a goddamn furnace in here!"

She looked back up to give him an exasperated look. "I am not asking you to cook it, am I? It is first time we all get chance to sit down together in our new place. I want it to be nice."

"Whatever," Mickey moved past her to grab a beer from the fridge.

Svetlana muttered something in Russian as she stirred the meat in the pan before speaking to him again. "You know, some men appreciate wife who cooks."

"Guess I'm not one of them," Mickey twisted the cap off his beer, leaning against the fridge.

"Not talking about you," she scoffed back and picked up one of the uncut carrots lying on the counter. As Mickey watched, she slowly licked the tip of it, then slid it between her ruby colored lips. "Hmmm. I love carrots," she sighed around it.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Mickey stared at her, watching her deep throat the long stem like the pro she was. It was like watching the opening scene some godawful Skinemax movie; he was just waiting for some bad elevator music to swell and a shirtless plumber to walk in to ask her if she needed help with that. "Jesus, would you save the show for the paying customers?"

"Maybe I give your boy freebie, you think?" She arched an eyebrow suggestively.

Mickey slammed down his beer, explosive reply on his lips, when he heard the laughter from the living room. Ian had come out of the bedroom, balancing a whimpering Geno in his arms. He was watching the two of them, amusement clear on his face.

"Still won't sleep?" Mandy asked, looking up from the pot she was stirring.

"Nope; fussy as hell. Think he's teething. My arms are numb from rocking him," Ian gently deposited Geno into his swing and the baby whimpered more loudly. "Sorry, kid, just need a break for a couple of minutes." He dropped down onto the couch with a sigh. When Geno immediately began to fuss, he stretched his long legs across the coffee table and pushed the swing back and forth with his foot, relieved when the boy quieted at the motion.

"Go help him," Svetlana nudged Mickey hard. He gritted his teeth as she pointed imperiously towards the baby.

Instead, Mickey stomped past Geno to join Ian on the couch. "Jesus fucking Christ," he muttered, settling back. "Think if I have Immigration pick her well used ass up, they'd still let me keep the kid?"

Ian laughed. "Come on, she's not so bad."

"Says the guy whose dick she's desperate to suck," Mickey snapped back.

Ian laughed again, shaking his head. He looked up to see Svetlana's quirking lips before she ducked back over the stove again. "Are you blind, Mickey? That wasn't about me. There are only three things in this world that Svetlana enjoys: Geno, good quality vodka, and fucking with you. Not necessarily in that order."

"Great," Mickey mumbled and drained half his beer in one swallow.

"By the way, how come she came home without you? Where you been?" Ian looked at him curiously as Mickey settled next to him on the couch.

"Got a lead on a job and I went to go settle the details. Just a one time gig; little extra money coming in."

"Oh yeah? Where at?"

Mickey scratched his nose, not quite meeting Ian's eyes. "Uh…"

"Mickey," Ian sat up. "What is it that you don't want to tell me?"

He gave up with a sigh. "It's at the Fairy Tail, OK? Your old manager called; said they needed extra security at this big bash they're having. For some reason he thought of me."

"Wonder why," Ian said drily. Mickey still wasn't quite meeting his eyes. "Did he…say anything else?"

"Asked about you. Said everyone misses you," Mickey was barely able to hide his grimace.

Ian kept his eyes locked on Mickey, waiting. After a moment, Mickey gave up with a sigh. "Fine. They want you there too; asked if you could dance again just for the one night."

Ian could only imagine Mickey's colorful response. "And you told them no, right?"

"Ian…"

"Don't you think you should have run it by me first?" Ian fought hard to keep his voice calm.

"Come on, Ian. Why would you want to be back in that man pit, shaking your ass for a bunch of chicken hawks who look at you like you got a price tag dangling from your dick?" Mickey rubbed his hand through his hair, wishing he'd never brought the whole thing up.

"Because it's good money!" Ian sat up. "Like you said, it's just for one night, and we'd be there together, right? What's the big deal?"

"You're fucking kidding me right?" Mickey glared at him. Ian glowered at him just as fiercely back, holding his gaze until Mickey finally broke.

"Look, I trust you, OK? I know you can handle it. I just – I'm the one who can't handle it, alright? I can't see you like that again. Those assholes with their hands all over you, remembering how fucking strung out you were when I first found you there," Mickey held up his hand when Ian started to object. "Can you not fight me on this? Just this once, please?" He held Ian's eyes with his, begging him silently to understand all the things he couldn't articulate.

"Fine," Ian slumped back on the couch. "It's just – I want to help, you know? I want to get back to work, feel like I'm contributing something."

"You _are_ working," Mickey settled back as well, relieved the argument was over. He picked up a magazine that laid open on the coffee table, thumbing through the pages.

"Part time at the Kash and Grab. It's pocket change." Ian clenched his jaw.

"It's enough."

"If it was, you wouldn't be willing to play bouncer for a bunch of ass grabbing queers, would you?"

Mickey shrugged. "That's the thing about rent; they seem to want it every month," he nudged Ian with his arm, trying to shake the downcast expression off his face. "I got this, OK? Let me worry about the money shit for a while."

"But I want to help," Ian started to protest again but Mickey swatted him with the magazine.

"You _are_ helping. If it wasn't for you and your sister, we'd all be sitting on the floor," Mickey indicated the motley assortment of secondhand furniture around them. "And you help out with Geno all the time."

"Great," Ian grumbled. "I'm the happy housewife."

Mickey laughed at that. "Hey, if the shoe fits…"

"Asshole," Ian picked up the faded couch pillow next to him and tossed it at Mickey's head.

Mickey managed to snag it before it smacked him in the face. Grinning, he was about to toss it back at Ian when the other man caught his wrist, pulling it towards him.

"Almost healed," Ian murmured. He traced the sealing splits over Mickey's knuckles and the pale, yellow bruises that surrounded them. "Does it still hurt?"

"No," Feeling self conscious, Mickey tried to pull his hand back, but Ian tightened his grip.

"You never did tell me what happened," Ian looked back up at him, thinking again about the night he'd gone back to his family's house to spend time with his siblings, only to have Svetlana call and tell him Mickey needed him. He'd come home to find Mickey slumped on the side of the bed as Svetlana bandaged his broken knuckles. The blood stained, dented wall in the bedroom gave a pretty good explanation of what had turned Mickey's fist into hamburger. What he'd been lacking was an explanation of what had set Mickey off in the first place, and it's not like his boyfriend had been all that inclined to spill his guts.

"Nothing, man. Just...stuff," he'd muttered, when Ian pressed him.

At least Ian had Svetlana to fill in at least some of the blanks. "Terry," she'd whispered under her breath as they'd kept vigil until Mickey had finally drifted off to sleep. "He and Mandy talk about him, I think."

So of course Ian had turned to Mandy next for answers but she'd been even more uncooperative than her brother. "Mind your own fucking business," she had snapped and when he'd persisted she had grabbed her jacket and stormed from the house.

They hadn't seen her for two days after that, and just when Ian had been about to file a missing persons report she had stumbled back home, sporting some brutal looking hickeys and so hungover nobody bothered to ask her where she'd been. It would have been a miracle if she could remember herself. Besides, she'd gotten her message across loud and clear: if they crowded her, she was gone.

It's not like Ian had room to hold something like that against her.

He turned his attention back to Mickey, who still hadn't answered the question. "It's OK if you don't want to talk about it. It's just - I guess I like the idea of being able to be there for you. It would be nice to be...needed."

"Hey," Mickey slapped Ian's arm. "I do need you," he looked away. "You oughta know that by now."

"Thanks," Ian smiled, feeling unexpectedly warmed. "We gonna talk then?"

Mickey looked perplexed. "Isn't that what we just did?"

"Yeah, OK," Ian couldn't help but laugh at that - Mickey looked so honestly confused at what more Ian could possibly expect. Yeah, he guessed those few sentences did pretty much qualify as a heart to heart as far as Mickey was concerned.

Before he could say more they were both interrupted by a whimper that threatened more. Ian had stopped pushing Geno's swing the last few minutes, and now the baby let out a frustrated wail followed by a few sniffling cries. Hurriedly Ian began pushing the swing again with his foot.

"Batteries ran out again?" Mickey asked.

"Yeah. I'll pick up some more at work tomorrow."

"He's getting too big to be stuck in that thing all the time anyway," Mickey watched the two of them for a moment then sat forward. "Hey. Watch this."

With that caught Geno's eye and when the baby was looking at him he made a great show of cracking a knuckle. At the popping sound Geno's eyes widened and then the baby let out a near shriek of laughter, waving his tiny arms excitedly and slapping the tray of his swing in glee. Only the most soulless of beings could keep from laughing along, and that's exactly what both Ian and Mickey did. Once Geno calmed down and caught his breath, Mickey cracked another knuckle and it set the tot off again.

"See?" Mickey grinned. "Kid's not hard to entertain."

"Well, he seems to find you pretty damn funny," Ian agreed as Mickey cracked a third knuckle and the baby worked himself into near hysterics at the sound.

After Geno had laughed himself out, his eyes began to droop and he lolled against the side of the swing. Ian sighed in relief. "Think we can get him to sleep now, finally." With that he stood up, picked Geno up and cradled him against his chest, sitting back down on the couch. Geno sighed contentedly and was asleep within seconds.

Ian adjusted Geno's head, making sure he was comfortably settled, and looked up to see Mickey watching him.

"It's easier for you to be around him now, isn't it?" he couldn't help but ask.

M seemed to contemplate this for a moment. "I guess," he said after a moment. "Yeah. I mean, it was a shitty thing to do, blame a kid for how I thought he was brought into this world. Just couldn't help it." He was looking away again.

"Understandable though," Ian encouraged. This was the closest that they'd ever really gotten to talking about the day Terry had caught them together, and what had happened next. He hesitated for a moment, not sure how to continue.

"Yeah, well now I know different," M interjected, finishing off the rest of his beer. "He's still a Milkovich though. Just as fucked as the rest of us."

"I don't think so," Ian shook his head. "He's got Svetlana and Mandy looking out for him. He's got you, too. And you're going to be a great dad."

Mickey gave Ian a deeply skeptical look. "Whatever. If I manage to keep him from playing in traffic or showing up to school with an AK47 I'll consider my job done. I just want to be better than - " he broke off.

"Better than Terry," Ian supplied. "Yeah, I get it," he shifted Geno's position on his chest and the baby sighed sleepily. "That's all I ever wanted too, you know. To be better than Frank." _And Monica_, he thought to himself with a wince. Some shadows weren't so easily outrun.

"Well, mission accomplished," Mickey grinned at him, missing Ian's sudden discomfort, for which he was grateful. "Tell you what. I'll let you be the good dad. I'm fine with mediocrity. Long as I outdo my old man, like you said. It'll be my biggest accomplishment. They can carve it on my headstone someday..Mickey Milkovich - he was better than Terry."

Ian laughed. "Me too. Ian Gallagher, better than Frank. We'll be matching graves, side by side."

"Nah man, they're going to bury us in the same grave, coffins on top of each other, like those old folks who die on the same day and shit."

,Ian snorted. "You'll be on the bottom."

Mickey flicked the remaining drops of his beer at him. "Fuck you," Despite himself, he couldn't stop grinning.

"That's where I was going with that," Ian shot back, and laughed so hard at Mickey's expression that he almost woke up the baby.

* * *

Mandy stood in the kitchen, watching her brother and Ian laugh as she separated plates onto the counter so that Svetlana could fill them with stroganoff. She slapped the last plate down a little harder than necessary and Svetlana turned to her.

"You OK?"

"People need to stop asking me that," Mandy jerked open the silverware drawer, grabbing a handful of forks. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Svetlana shrugged as she walked over to the opposite cupboard and began to pull out glasses. The only sound for the next minute was the quiet clink of dishes and the boys' muffled laughter from the living room.

When Svetlana spoke again, it was so quiet that Mandy almost missed it.

"My father hurt me too, you know."

"What?" Mandy turned to face her, and Svetlana met her look head on.

"He used me up until there was nothing left. Then he sold me so that other men could use me too." Her voice was expressionless as she began to fill the plates again. "That is how I came here. But you knew that already."

"Do you - " Mandy could feel her voice threatening to break. She shot a wary look over at the couch, relieved to see Mickey and Ian still deep in conversation. "Do you still love him?"

"Yes," Svetlana finished filling the last plate. "He was not always a bad man. When I was little, he was like a hero to me. I did not get along with my mother. My sister and brother were her favorites - she acted like I did not come from her at all. He protected me from her. He made me feel safe, like I was worth something." Her lips twisted slightly. "I guess I _was_ worth something to him. Three hundred American dollars, it turns out."

Mandy swallowed hard. She wanted to say something comforting, but the words got swallowed up in the rush of what did come out of her mouth. "What would you do if you ever saw him again?"

"I would cut his throat," Svetlana said simply. She finished what she was doing and looked up to see Mandy staring at her. "I know what I am worth now, you see."

Mandy couldn't think of a single thing to say in response. Svetlana started to move past her, carrying the plate she just filled in one hand, then paused. Gently, she pressed her fingers to Mandy's cheek, just for a few seconds. Then she was on her way to the small card table that was their makeshift dining nook, leaving the younger woman with an oddly soothing warmth where her fingers had been and even darker thoughts than she'd been struggling with before.

Because it wasn't over. Mickey could laugh with Ian, he could pretend that moving out of their childhood home ended it, but Mandy knew better. Terry wasn't going to let either one of them go that easily. He would come for them. He would come for _her_.

And she had absolutely no idea what she was going to do when he did.

* * *

_Sorry this chapter took so long; lots of stuff going on right now. Thank you so much for reading; feedback always appreciated!_

_I can be found at tumblr as well: Avalonia320_


	6. Slipped

**Slipped**

"You're killing me here, Geno." Ian bounced the tot in his arms, crossing the apartment for the umpteenth time as Geno whimpered. "Yeah, I know. Teething's no fun for you either, huh?" Adjusting the baby's weight to his other arm, he reached the wall, did a quick about face, and paced in the other direction. They'd been doing this for nearly an hour now - every time he set the kid down, Geno began to howl. Constant motion was the only thing that seemed to keep his mind off his teething pains, but Ian was starting to feel like he was going to lose his mind if he had to spend the rest of the night walking in circles around their new abode.

It didn't help that he was home alone, and there was no one to give his arms a rest. Mandy was at work, and Svetlana and Mickey were pulling an all nighter. Since Mickey had made his wife more of a partner in their skin trade business, she'd taken much more of an interest in their mutual endeavor, coming up with new ideas to expand, even some legal ones, like setting up a website where 'models' could live chat and more with paying customers from around the world, ala Veronica's old setup. She'd also come up with the idea of hiring the girls out for events, one night bashes and the like etc, with Mickey there to play bouncer so things didn't get out of hand. They were at their first outside paying gig tonight, a bachelor party at some fancy hotel, and Ian didn't expect them back until dawn, if his own experience at such parties was any indication. He didn't mention that part to Mickey though - his boyfriend was sensitive enough about Ian's dancing days without having to hear all the details.

"Let's try something else, huh?" Ian returned his attention to the fussing infant in his arms. "Let's see what Auntie Fiona brought for you, OK?" He carried Geno into the kitchenette and transferred him to one arm so he could dig through the plastic bag on the counter. He'd called Fiona yesterday desperate for advice, and she'd shown up with a care package to help out. Going through it now, he found tubes of Oragel, packages of teething biscuits, extra bibs for the sure to be epic drooling, and a few water filled teething toys, which reminded him he'd already put one in the freezer yesterday.

"OK, let's give this a try," He set Geno down on the counter and uncapped the medicine, rubbing some on Geno's gums. The boy spat in response, giving Ian a disgusted look, and he laughed. "Yeah, tastes like shit, I know. But it will help. I hope." He picked him back up, wandering over to the freezer to retrieve the teethiing toy.

Geno gnawed on his frozen treat as they ambled around the kitchen. After a few minutes, his whimpers began to subside. He even began to giggle at some of Ian's offhand entreaties. "Feeling better, huh? Good. Maybe you can let me sit down for a while."

He carried Geno back into the living room, plopping the baby down on a toy filled blanket covering the ugly brown carpet. To his relief, Geno didn't immediately shriek in protest, instead picking up a lighted musical toy and happily banging on the buttons.

Relieved, Ian sat down next to him, leaning against the couch and reaching for the remote on the coffee table. After a few minutes of perusing basic cable and finding nothing but infomericals and Dr. Phil reruns, he turned the tv off. Fuck, for what they were paying a month he'd think the networks would throw in a little skin every once in a while.

He tapped his feet restlessly, half watching Geno play, until he jumped up. "Might as well finish unpacking since I don't have anything better to do, right?"

Geno side-eyed him as he continued to chew on his teething toy, clearly unimpressed with Ian's status update. Ian chuckled, ruffling the little hair the boy had. ""Whatever, kid. Be right back."

He hurried into the small bedroom he and Mickey shared and for a moment he was struck again at how incredibly mind blowing it was to realize how much life had changed in these last few months. He and MIckey were together. Fucking _living_ together. Everyone knew it. They had their own bedroom, even. Svetlana had gotten the larger one, since she had to share with Geno and his vast assortment of baby furniture, and Mandy...well, Mandy had definitely gotten the short end of the straw when it came to their new living arrangements. Her 'bedroom' was really just the barely bigger than a closet area that their landlord had enthusiastically described as 'office space'. Fiona had ended up giving her Ian's old cot sized bed, since it was the only thing that would fit. She didn't even have her own door, just a beaded, Swinging Seventies style curtain they'd hung up. At least they tried to make it up to her by letting her pay a smaller portion of rent.

There really wasn't much unpacking left to do. All the Gallaghers, plus V and Kev, had showed up to help them move in, providing most of their limited amount of furniture at the same time. Plus Mickey and Mandy had maybe three boxes each of personal possessions. Neither one of them seemed inclined to take more from their father's house. It was Ian who'd had the lion's share; years worth of debris scattered all over the Gallagher house. He wasn't even sure what was still left in all the boxes that his family had helpfully packed up for him, but it seemed like a good time to find out.

A quick peek back through the doorway assured him that Geno was still contentedly playing, so he pulled the first box towards him and flipped out his pocket knife to cut it open.

'Ian - STORAGE' was written on the top in Fiona's handwriting. A thick layer of dust covered the cardboard. Strange - seemed like this box had been sitting somewhere for months, not just the last week or so.

He cut it open and froze as the familiar camo pattern of his fatigues came into view. The full set was there, pants, jacket, a stack of khaki shirts underneath it. He pulled them out and tossed them aside to reveal another set of darker camo pants, one leg cut off to make shorts he'd never finished.

Beneath that he found the remnants of his long held obsession, stacks of military magazines, West Point brochures, a never opened GPS wrist unit, ROTC gear and old awards…

"Shit," he mumbled under his breath, and then he gathered up the fatigues, shoving them back in the box, throwing everything else in a jumble. He forced the lid closed best he could, lacking tape to reseal it, snatched a marker off the dresser, and scrawled TRASH in capital letters, crossing out his name in the process. With that, he picked up the box and threw it in the closet. He'd take it out to the dumpster now if he could, but he couldn't leave Geno alone. At least he could get it out of his sight.

He tried to close the closet door, but the box was too big. He kicked it repeatedly, trying to force it back. The box flipped onto its side, spilling the contents onto the closet floor. "Fuck!" He slammed the closet door closed - he'd deal with it later.

He tried to steady his irregular breathing as he hurried back to the living room. To his relief, Geno was asleep on the floor, cherubic face peaceful, his face pressed into his chew toy. Carefully, Ian picked him up, praying silently the baby wouldn't awaken. His luck held - Geno was out like a light. He barely stirred when Ian settled him into his crib.

Ian headed straight from there to the fridge, opening it to survey the row of Budweisers on the shelf. He started to reach for one, but his eye was caught by something else, A bottle of Jack Daniels sparkled down at him from the top of the fridge, a splurge lying in wait to celebrate a really good day or improve a really bad one. And if this didn't qualify, he didn't know what did.

A good thirty minutes later, Ian was forced to admit that the Jack Daniels was a bust. It was probably his fucking medication, messing with his tolerance, but drinking wasn't nearly as fun as it used to be. He'd barely finished a third of the bottle, but it was hitting him like a sledgehammer and not in a good i'm-so-fucking-hammered type of way. He felt like he'd taken fifty sleeping pills and his mood was shittier than ever.

He didn't even know why he was so upset. It wasn't like he hadn't remembered that he'd blown his future to hell; like he'd forgotten all the years in ROTC, swaggering around thinking he was going to be some Army hotshot someday. It's just that he wasn't expecting it to be suddenly thrown in his face like that. He didn't even know why Fiona would have brought that box of stuff over - but no, she wouldn't have. Undoubtedly, she'd packed up everything she thought would be an upsetting reminder of what he'd thrown away way back when he'd first been diagnosed. Somebody had seen his name on it and grabbed it by mistake.

He did not want to spend the rest of the night thinking about this - it wasn't going to lead to anywhere good. At least the alcohol was making him tired - sleeping seemed like the perfect activity right now.

He had nearly given into it when the banging of the front door jolted him out of his stupor. Opening bleary eyes, he watched Mandy slam the front door shut as she entered. "Hey," she called out as she passed him, already pulling off her Waffle Cottage uniform as she headed towards her bedroom.

"Hey you,' he called back, relieved she was speaking to him of her own free will, even if she didn't sound like she was in the best of moods. Things had finally started to get normal between her and Mickey again the last few days - Ian didn't think he'd ever been so happy to hear two people call each other 'fuckface' and 'retarded bitch' in his life.

Mandy strolled back into the living room a minute later in nothing but black underwear, pulling her white tank top over her bare chest, smirking when Ian quickly looked away. "You're lucky I'm wearing this, shy boy. Too fucking hot for clothes." With that, she flopped next to him on the couch.

"Bad day?" Ian asked her, noting the rigid set of her shoulders and the hard line of her mouth.

Mandy scowled. "Your dumb fuck brother brought his sorority bitch to the diner tonight. One piece of pie, two coffees - they still took a fucking hour to eat since they could barely keep their tongues out of each others mouths. Then the stupid bitch gives me a twenty and tells me to '_keep the change, sweetie_'. Almost 'sweetie'd' her right in her fucking smug face."

Ian took another swallow of JD and wiped his mouth. "You're holding over-tipping against Amanda now?"

Mandy glared at him. "I don't need pity tips from that condescending cunt," she snapped. "She and Lip sitting there acting like they feel sorry for me or something. Why can't they just stay the fuck away?"

_True enough,_ Ian thought to himself. He didn't know what the hell Lip was thinking when it came to Mandy. All the dumbass was doing was rubbing salt in her wounds. He made a mental note to go over there tomorrow and hit Lip a couple of times until his brother got the 'don't call, don't write' message a little more clearly

"Want some?" He tipped the bottle in her direction.

Mandy eyed it suspiciously. "I thought you weren't supposed to drink on your meds."

Ian set the bottle down on the scarred coffee table with a thump. "Doc didn't say I couldn't drink, he said to keep it light."

Mandy raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, that looks real light."

Ian glowered at her, picking up the bottle and taking another defiant swig. "Don't tell me what I can and cannot do. Hear it enough from Lip and Fiona."

"Well, excuse the fuck outta me for caring," Mandy slumped back on the couch, looking away from him. "Do whatever you want then."

"Hey," Ian set the bottle back down. "Sorry, I didn't mean to take my shit out on you."

Mandy's face softened slightly, and she gave him a half smile. "It's okay. Guess I'm not the only one who had a bad day."

Ian's head was beginning to throb. He gestured towards the bottle. "I'm done anyway. Rest of it's yours."

"Nah," Mandy shrugged off his offer and sat back up, grinning suddenly. "I got something better," She reached into her black bra, extracting a small square which she presented with a flourish.

Ian stared at it. "What the fuck is that?"

"Hit of acid," Mandy's eyes sparkled. "I ran into an old friend and he hooked me up. I'm about to take a trip old school style. Want to come?" She held out the tab. "I'll share."

For a moment, Ian was seriously tempted, then he shook his head. "I'll pass. Had enough tonight; plus I'm watching Geno."

"Well, he's asleep, isn't he?" Mandy waited for his nod expectantly.

"Yeah, but…" Ian trailed off.

"Your loss," With that, Mandy popped the tab onto her tongue and settled into the corner of the couch. One Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test, coming right up!"

Ian chuckled as he recapped the Jack Daniels bottle. Mandy was quiet for a minute, eyes closed, before she opened them again to look at him.

"So, what were you drinking to forget? Mickey being an ass again?"

"No. He's been great, actually. Better than I deserve." God, his head was really starting to pound. Nice little joke; he didn't even get to enjoy being drunk before he got the hangover.

"What the fuck are you talking about, 'better than you deserve'?" Mandy demanded, uncurling from her corner.

He was feeling too crappy to dissemble. "Look at me, Mandy. I fucked everything up. I had dreams and goals and a fucking future. I was in ROTC, I was getting halfway decent grades, I mean, I thought I was going to get into West Point. Now I'm a joke. A fucking mental case, high school dropout back to making minimum wage at the Kash and Grab. No prospects, no future. What can I offer anyone, least of all Mickey?"

Mandy snorted. "I'm sorry; you're wondering what you can offer my brother, the ex juvenile delinquent high school dropout turned pimp? Because he's bringing so much to the table?"

Ian shot her a frigid look. "Come on. He's practically carried me these last few months. I want to be more for him than just another person he has to take care of."

"OK, first of all, you're not a mental case. I mean, we've all got our shit. And you can still go back to school, you know.," Mandy pointed out. "Maybe even college. Just take on an assload of unpayable student loans like the rest of our generation. Everybody's going to go bankrupt at the same time anyway, what can they do, right?"

"Yeah, and what would I do in college anyway? I'm not good at anything. Not really interested in anything either. There's only one thing I ever wanted."

Mandy gave him a deliberate look at that, and Ian managed a smile. "OK, two things. And the military - well, I've fucked that up beyond belief. At least they gave me a dishonorable discharge; beats prison, I guess."

"Well, at least you got one thing you wanted. That's more than most of us get."

Ian nodded again, rubbing his temples. "Yeah. I know."

Mandy leaned forward and touched his face. "Cheer up. It's going to be OK. You're a Gallagher - you and your whole happy clan always land on your feet."

Ian tried to smile at that but couldn't quite manage it. Even in his Jack Daniels induced haze, he knew he was acting like a whiny little bitch. Mandy was right; he had something incredible. And yet - how could he possibly explain it to her so that she'd understand? How could anyone understand? The military hadn't been just a impulse; a kid's fantasy.. When you plan and hope and imagine something for so long, it becomes something so beyond a dream. It was something that became a part of him. He used to lie in bed at night and dream about his future; the places he would see, where he would go, what his life would mean. It had all been so clear.

Now, when he laid there late at night, after Mickey had fallen asleep, there was - nothing. Just a vast, empty space. Nothing left to reach for anymore.

Mandy was still watching him. "You know what? You need this more than I do."

Before he realized her intention, Mandy pressed her mouth to his and he tasted traces of cinnamon, stale coffee and cigarettes as her tongue touched his and withdrew, leaving behind the partially dissolved tab. She pulled away, smiling like a five year old caught being naughty. "Enjoy!"

Ian couldn't help but laugh at her expression, even as he considered spitting it out. Fuck it. He was already drunk enough to pay for it anyway; might as well go balls out and enjoy it. "Thanks."

"No problem," Mandy wound her fingers through his, and together, they settled back to enjoy the ride.

* * *

It took some time for Ian to begin to feel it...an hour, two days...he didn't know and he couldn't have cared less. God, he felt fantastic. He hadn't moved from the couch, but it was like the world had transformed around him. the air shifting and twirling to reveal colors that he'd never been able to comprehend before. Everything was so vivid, so - alive. It was like he'd been blind his whole life and tonight was the first time he'd seen clearly. The colors, the amazing, incredible colors...it was almost like he could see the texture of the air, spin the molecules around on his fingertips, redirect reality...

"This is fucking amazing," he managed to tear his eyes away from the shifting walls to locate Mandy. God, she was beautiful...all black and purple and ivory… "Why haven't I ever tried this before?"

Beside him on the couch, Mandy drew her knees up to her chest, shivering. A sideways glance at Ian's blissed out face told her that while they may have begun this trip together, they had arrived in two entirely different destinations. She felt so cold, the kind of cold that saturated your bone marrow first and spread outward, freezing you one tiny cell at a time. It was hard to breathe - the room was shrinking around her, wrapping dark around her like an unwelcome embrace. Even darker shadows had begun to unfurl from the corners, and she shrank back as they drifted slowly across the room towards her; oh God, she couldn't look - what if they had faces? What if they had eyes? She couldn't stand to see all those eyes looking down at her…

The tremors had turned into full on body shakes and she huddled into Ian's chest. He felt so warm compared to the frost covering her.

"Hey, Mandy…" Ian wrapped an arm around her. "Isn't this incredible? Do you see it all?"

The only sound that escaped her throat was a desperate whimper, and she clung to him harder.

"What's wrong?"

She couldn't raise her head for a long moment, sickeningly terrified of what she'd see if she did, but finally she hazarded a peek at his face. No, it was OK...he was still her Ian, his face the only beacon of light in the black room.

"You're crying," Ian still had that dopey grin on his face, but his unfocused eyes were concerned. "Don't cry," he urged, and his big hands were on each side of her face, pressing heat into her skin and melting the ice away where he touched. He wiped away her tears with his thumbs. "You're OK," he whispered into her hair.

"You're the only one who cares, you know," she whispered back, and like her words were a curse unleashed, the shadows around her transformed into the faces she'd been dreading, and they were all there, everyone who'd ever hurt her, everyone who didn't give a fuck, staring at her, faces twisting into grotesque masks.

"Oh God," she wrapped her arms tightly around Ian and buried her face in his neck. "Oh God, please make it stop, make them go away…!"

"What?" Ian was giggling as he looked around and the sound was like shockwaves rippling up her spine. How could he laugh at a time like this? "Mandy, you're missing it. Open your eyes, look around...it's fucking fantastic!" He tried to shake her loose, but she clung even tighter. "Come on, don't you see it?" He ran his fingers up and down her bare arm. "I feel like electricity is traveling all over me...can you feel that?"

She would have given anything at that moment to be able to see what he saw, felt what he felt. What she _did_ feel when he touched her was incredible warmth. and she was desperate for more - he was the only thing keeping the freezing and the dark at bay. "Ian…" she needed him closer...all over her, protecting her; she'd crawl inside him if she could…

Her shirt felt like a layer of ice between them and she peeled it off, flinging it away, but his was still in the way and so she tugged at it until until he lifted his arms, looking confused, and let her pull it off. "Mandy - " he began, and she shut him up by pressing her cold lips to his hot ones. He laughed into open mouth, saying something incomprehensible, and she didn't stop, she couldn't stop, she kissed him over and over until his arms enfolded her and he began kissing her back.

It all seemed to melt together then, his hands, her hands, she wasn't sure who was touching who, who was pulling off whose clothes, all she knew was she needed him nearer and even when she pulled him down on top of her, guided him inside her, it wasn't enough to melt all the shadows away, but it was enough to keep her from looking at them and for now, that was all that mattered.

* * *

Geno was crying.

Ian could hear him, but he couldn't find him, didn't even know how to try. He felt disembodied, arms, legs, head totally disconnected, no eyes to open to look, nothing but dark around him, and Geno was crying desperately, louder, and he had to get to him, but how?

"I'm coming…" the sound of his own voice was like a lightning bolt. If he could talk, he was still in one piece, he could still move, he could still -

"Geno!" With a jolt, Ian tore his eyes open and everything surged back in around him. He was lying on his back on the couch, and muted dawn was starting to light the apartment. It was getting hot already, and he was sweating profusely, the suffocating feeling not made easier by the fact that Mandy was sprawled on top of him, doubling the heat.

It took him a moment to notice that she was naked. A beat longer to recognize that he was too. Their clothing was scattered on the floor all around the couch.

"Oh fuck," he moaned as dim memories came back in jagged bits and pieces.

"Hmmm…" Mandy moaned lightly as he tried to push her off of him. "Let me sleep…" Abruptly, her eyes opened, then widened as she stared at him. She sat up, and he could see the same awareness dawn in her horrified eyes. "Holy fucking shit,"

"Geno's crying," he said dumbly as she sat there, open mouthed. As if on cue, Geno's screams grew louder - not the normal 'i'm awake and bored' cry Ian was used to hearing in the mornings, but a desperate, sobbing shriek of a truly miserable baby.

"No shit, Sherlock," Mandy pushed herself off of him. "Fuck. We didn't really - " she gave up on her denial. "Son of a fucking bitch!."

"Oh God," Ian stared around them. "Mickey…"

"Is going to be home any minute!" Mandy seemed to be grasping the gravity of their situation much faster than he was. She jumped off the couch, frantically sorting through the garments at their feet. "

"Oh Jesus," Ian stumbled to his feet too, looking desperately around. The first item he picked up was Mandy's sock and she snatched it out of his hands.

"Ian, don't fall apart on me now. Just put your fucking clothes on and we can both forget this ever happened, ok? No one ever needs to know." She threw the sock aside. "Where the fuck is my underwear?"

Ian was looking for his own, but his head felt like it was filled with lead, weighted down. Clearly, he was still high; everything felt like it was slow motion and he was trying to swim through air the consistency of jelly. He found his shirt, but as quickly as he picked it up he dropped it. Finally, he found his underwear peeking out from underneath the couch cushion.

"Hurry the fuck up!" Mandy hissed at him, tearing the couch apart in search of her own clothing.

"I'm trying!" Ian was trying to balance on one leg to get his underwear on, stumbling around like his father after all nighter.

And then they heard it, the sound of the key in the lock.

There was about twenty thousand more intelligent things they could have done instead of freeze in place like a deer caught in fast moving headlights. But that's exactly what they did do, the threat of imminent discovery holding them in a guilty tableau.

Mickey and Svetlana were laughing as they came through the door - _laughing_ - at some remembered stripper malfunction from the sound of it. Ian's heart stopped as Mickey's eyes locked onto him and the grin froze and faded. He took in the underwear that Ian was still frantically trying to pull on, and then his eyes drifted past him, to the clothes still discarded on the floor, and then to the equally shamed, equally undressed Mandy. Ian felt his guts shrivel as realization hardened Mickey's eyes.

"What the fuck?!"

"What's wrong with Geno?" Svetlana demanded at the same time, and then she was running past them to the bedroom to get to her son.

"MIckey…" Ian whispered. He pulled on his underwear, glad for a second to look away, not wanting to see Mickey's face.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Mickey's voice was low and deadly.

"Mickey, it was a mistake - " Mandy began but Mickey fixed her with such a ferocious glare that she whirled and ran, disappearing into her bedroom.

Mickey closed the gap between them until he was right in front of Ian. "Please tell me this is all some hilarious misunderstanding. Tell me this didn't really happen.."

Jesus. The way Mickey was looking at him - he'd seen MIckey hurt before, angry before, even devastated. He'd never seen him look so fucking destroyed - so _betrayed_. "Mickey, please, just listen - " Ian reached out for him.

"Don't you fucking touch me!" Mickey exploded. "My sister, Gallagher? My fucking sister?!"

Ian could feel the tears starting. "Let me explain - "

Mickey barked out an astonished laugh. "Explain? You think you can explain this away? Is that your idea of a joke?" He snatched up the half empty bottle of Jack Daniels from the coffee table. "Explain it to the fucking wall. I'm out of here."

With that, he stomped towards the door. Ian tried to stumble after, but MIckey was gone within seconds, slamming it so hard behind him that the whole apartment rattled.

Ian stood there, staring at the door, feeling himself shatter into a million pieces.

There had been one good thing in his life. The only thing that had mattered.

Gone.


	7. Lost and Found

_Summary: Mickey struggles with Ian's betrayal._

_This is a short chapter, just two scenes, but it's rather pivotal to what's coming next. Plus, I just need a breath before I write the next one, which is going to be pretty intense._

**Lost and Found**

It had only been seconds since MIckey had slammed out of the apartment but it felt like an eternity to Ian as he frantically fumbled on the rest of his clothing, desperately looking around for his shoes.

"Ian!" He looked up at Svetlana speaking his name like an invective. She was standing in front of him, holding a still sobbing Geno. "He's soaked. Hungry too. You were too busy to notice, yes?" Her scornful gaze shriveled him.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I was out of it. I was - high."

Svetlana's lips twisted at his mumbled confession. "You got high when you were watching my son," she returned coldly.. Clearly he wasn't making things better for himself. "High enough to think fucking your boyfriend's sister was a good idea. Stupid fucking idiot!"

There was nothing Ian could say in his own defense. She'd pretty much summed it up.

"Take him," Svetlana said abruptly, starting to hand him Geno.

Ian was amazed she'd even consider letting him near Geno again, but it didn't matter anyway. "I can't," He bent down to pull on his shoes. "I have to find Mickey - "

"_No," _ Ian looked up at her tone. "I will go find Mickey. You stay here and actually wAtch Geno this time, understand?"

Ian started to protest and Svetlana fixed him with a look that promised imminent death by screwdriver if he didn't cooperate. "Sorry, carrot boy. Today wife outranks boyfriend.". With that, she pushed Geno into his arms and disappeared through the front door, leaving a deeply frustrated Ian behind.

* * *

'Fuck!"

Mickey was halfway to his piece of shit car before he remembered that Svetlana had the keys. No fucking way was he going back inside now. He couldn't even fathom how he'd be able to look at Mandy and I - God, he couldn't even think his name right now.

Didn't matter anyway. All he wanted right now was to be alone, and his go-to destination whenever the world shit on him was just a few blocks away.

As he walked, swinging the bottle of Jack Daniels he'd taken from the apartment,, he tried not to think, tried to reassure himself it was just a few minutes before he could sit and drink and let the world fall away.

But the images wouldn't stop coming.

Ian.

With _Mandy_.

The look on their faces when he'd walked in the apartment, the blatant guilt that made any other explanation for their undressed state impossible. The two people he loved the most in this world. The two people he would have trusted with anything.

This couldn't be happening. Where the fuck had this even come from? He'd known his sister wasn't in a good place, but what had he ever done to her to deserve this; to make her take away the one thing in his entire fucked existence that had ever made him happy?

Happy. He'd really been there. He'd been _happy._ He'd thought Ian was happy too. What a fucking joke. He should have known. When had this life ever given him anything and not snatched it back?

He was there now, crossing an overgrown, trash strewn field to look up at the broken buildings before him. Unbidden, new images flashed before him - he saw Ian, laying on the ground in this same place, broken.

He saw himself, aiming a kick that threw Ian's head back and caused more blood to gush from his mouth. He saw himself walking away, just leaving him, abandoning him to bleed alone.

Was this why? Because he'd known all along that he didn't deserve him. Known deep in the darkest corners of his heart that he'd lose Ian, sooner or later.

Funny enough, he'd always imagined that he'd be the one to fuck it up. Maybe this was just karma's way of balancing the scales.

He bent over, hands on his knees, gasping for breath as the pain crashed into him. God. It was real. This was happening.

Twenty minutes ago, he'd had a life, he had laughter, he had meaning.

And now there just - nothing. He was empty. Worthless. Lost. All over again.

But now it was so much worse, because he knew what it was like on the other side. And it burned so much; this frantic, desperate longing, this need to run back home right now and start the day over, walk in like nothing happened, beg the universe not to take this away from him again. How was he supposed to go on from this? How was he supposed to do anything else but lie on the ground and silently die?

"Mickey?"

He straightened up with a choked gasp at the sound of his own name.

Jesus. Svetlana . Maybe not the last person he wanted to see right now, but pretty damn close.

She came hurrying towards him, wobbling slightly on her ridiculous hooker heels, faintly out of breath. "I call you for two blocks now! Didn't you hear me?"

"Fuck off," he turned away.

"Mikhail!"

Unbidden, he turned back, abruptly taken back to years ago, when another voice had spoken his full name with a nearly identical accent.

"Don't fucking call me that," he snarled as she neared him.

She stopped a few feet away from him, eying him warily, before she turned to survey the landscape, looking at the broken buildings that loomed over them.

Hoping that if he ignored her, she'd get the message, he turned and started to walk towards the closest doorway.

And since even the smallest thing he wanted at the moment, which was just to be alone for one goddamn minute, was clearly too much to ask, Svetlana was right beside him.

"So this is your place?" she asked.

He stopped just before the entrance, glowering at her in response.

She quirked her lips at his glare. "Where you go, I mean. You used to disappear for hours, almost every day."

Mickey gritted his teeth. Now the bitch was always going to know where to find him. "Yes," he finally snarled. "I come here to be alone. ALONE. So would you please fucking leave?"

"You've been alone enough," she responded flatly, folding her arms across her chest.

"Jesus, what the fuck do you want?!" he ground out impatiently.

She shrugged. "I thought maybe I could help. Talk to you."

He stared at her. "You're kidding, right?"

She glared back at him silently. After a moment he dropped his hands in resignation. "Fine. Talk."

Svetlana studied him, biting her lip. "I don't know what to say."

His laugh at that surprised both of them. "Perfect." He studied her half pissed, half worried expression. Well, goddamn. He could be wrong, since he seemed to misjudge people most of the time, but this just might be his hard as nails hooker wife trying to _care_.

He uncapped the Jack Daniels bottle and took a long drink, then held it out to her. "Want some?"

She gave it a disdainful look. "Barely enough to wet my lips,." She waved it away. "So...you don't want to talk. I don't really want to listen to you whine about Orange Boy anyway. So let's go find a bar and get drunker than we've ever been in our lives, yes?"

"When it comes to you, that'd really be something to see," he returned, and she smirked.

Fuck it. If he had to be with someone, it might as well be her, not someone who'd want to hold his hand and expect him to chat about his fucking feelings. "Why not?"

Svetlana smiled, and to his surprise, she reached out and took his arm, tucking hers under it, as if they were a real couple out on a stroll. "Let's go."

They'd barely taken more than three steps before a figure stepped out of the shadows to their right, blocking their path.

"Well, well. Looky at what we got here," the words were a mocking drawl. "I've been looking for you."

Mickey stared in disbelief at the sneering face before him.

Fucking hell.

_Terry._


	8. All Fall Down

He was not ready for this.

All those times MIckey had fantasized about this for the last few months, seeing his father again, the things he'd say, the retribution he'd dole out...it had seemed so easy. So _right_.

But now, face to face with his father's familiar sneer, watching Terry's weathered knuckles twitch and slowly close into fists, it took him right back. Back to being five years old again, hiding in his closet under piles of pillows and dirty clothes, making believe if he was just quiet enough, he'd disappear right out of his father's mind and be safe in the dark forever.

His mind screamed at him to do something, strike first, and yet there he stood, frozen.

"Gotta say, this is a nice little surprise. Running into you here, fruit of my loins - 'fruit' being the operative word," his father laughed now but his eyes sparked danger warnings. "Say something, bitch. Otherwise, I might think you're not happy to see your old man."

He could see the recognition of his own weakness in Terry's mocking tone and he was disgusted with himself, sick down to his toes with the knowledge of his own helplessness.

"When did you get out?" he finally managed, forcing the words through his numb lips.

"Yesterday," Terry stepped forward, closing the distance between them. "And I gotta score to settle with you, Mickey." His voice was smooth, too calm, and Mickey knew this too well, the buildup before an explosion carefully crafted and savored, calculated for maximum damage.

"Get out of here," he muttered out of the side of his mouth to Svetlana as her fingers tightened on his arm.

"I'm not leaving you!" she hissed back.

"Aw, this is almost sweet! Look at you two, the faggot and the whore. Don't worry though, she's not going anywhere. I got unfinished business with both of you." Terry surveyed the two of them, smiling the way a mugger smiles as he watches his unknowing victim turn alone into a dark alley. He turned his focus back on Mickey. "See, I don't give a shit that your pansy ass packed up and left. I didn't expect you to be stupid enough to stick around. And I would have let you go, been fucking happy to never hear your name again, but who gave you permission to take anybody with you, huh? You don't have anything I didn't fucking give you! And I didn't say you could take my slut here. I didn't say you could take Yvgeny. And I most definitely didn't say that you could take _Mandy_!"

His voice rode furiously and his face mottled red. "Where is she? Where's my princess?!" He grabbed Mickey around the collar, yelling the last directly into his face, spittle flying.

That was it. As soon as Terry touched him, Mickey's vision was awash in a sea of red. He shook Svetlana's restraining grip off his arm and charged. The five year old was uncovered, out of the closet, on his feet in front of the monster under the bed, and it was him who guided Mickey's fist right into Terry's face. Watched his nose crack and blood erupt with a gloating sense of satisfaction.

"You don't ever touch her again!" He was screaming the words as Terry doubled over, choking. "You don't ever come near her again, or anyone of us, you fucking understand me?"

"You ungrateful little fudge packer!" Terry was on his feet in an instant, and he launched himself at Mickey as Svetlana screamed, striking him so hard that Mickey was thrown off balance, stunned by the force of the blow. "You think you can get away with this? You ruined my family, you know that? Even Iggy turned against me - I beat that little bitch til he was crying on the floor and he still wouldn't tell me where you were. And you're going to pay for it, you hear me?!"

His arms were around Mickey's throat now, choking, and even as Mickey tore desperately at the strangling fingers he was awash in fresh horror. Oh God, _Iggy_. The only one of his brothers who actually did know where Mickey and Mandy were, and he'd paid for his loyalty in blood.

The renewed rage made him fight even harder against his father's tightening grip even as black spots appeared before his eyes. Terry's throttling grip was merciless, impervious to MIckey's struggles, and he felt his knees began to buckle.

"Let him go!" Svetlana's voice seemed to be coming from a long way off. There was the sound of a blow and Terry's fingers abruptly slackened. Gasping, MIckey fell to the ground, gasping for air, just in time to see Terry turn and backhand Svetlana so hard that she also fell to the ground with a soft grunt.

"Stay there, bitch! When I'm done with this candy ass, I'll let you suck me off," Terry turned back to Mickey, but Mickey was already back on his feet and driving his fist into his father's face once more.

Caught off guard, Terry staggered, and Mickey knee'd him as hard as he could directly in the stomach. Terry dropped like a stone with a pained groan. "That's for Iggy!" He aimed a kick at his ribs. "That's for my wife!" He kicked him again as Terry doubled up. "That's for Geno!" With that, he dropped to his father's side. Terry stared up at him mutely, spitting blood out of his mouth. His father, at his mercy, at long last. It only fuelled his rage - how many times had it been him, lying there, begging? His mother? His brothers? His sister, crying in the dark for help they were all too cowed to give her?

"This is for Mandy, you sick piece of shit!" He drove his fist back into Terry's face and heard something crack. Looked like they were even on broken teeth now. He grabbed his father around the collar, pulling him half way up just to slam him back onto the ground. "That's for Ian! And this - " he aimed another kick, this time directly at Terry's balls, and the older man cried out as it hit home. "That's for me!"

With that, he leaned down once more to speak directly into his father's ear even as Terry groaned in agony. "You got a death wish? Then come after me again, motherfucker. Otherwise, you forget me as fast as I'm going to forget you. You forget all of us."

"Mickey, please, let's go!" Svetlana had gotten back to her feet, and she gestured at him frantically. Mickey turned to walk away with her, and that's when Terry hooked his hand around Mickey's ankle, yanking hard til Mickey lost his balance and fell to the ground.

The next thing he felt was the cold metal of the gun that his father was pressing directly to his face.

"Terry, no, no, please - !" Svetlana's desperate entreaty fell on deaf ears. Terry's glacial eyes were locked onto his son's.

"You are one stupid son of a bitch," Terry's lip curled. "But you're my responsibility. I brought you into this world. I guess it's my responsibility to take you out."

Mickey had managed to struggle to his knees but he didn't dare do more. Terry was digging the gun into his flesh, marking it. Behind him, Svetlana's face was a mask of horror. Mickey locked eyes with her, begging her silently to run, bargaining frantically with a God he wasn't even sure he believed in. _Please God, let her run. Let her go home, warn Ian and Mandy, get Geno, let them be safe. Terry could have him - not them. Please, not them. _

"I like this, you down on your knees where you belong," Terry was savoring the moment, drawing it out. "I'll tell you what. I'll give you one more chance. You tell me you're sorry. You beg my fucking forgiveness for being a worthless cock gobbling queer and a sorryass disgrace to the name of Milkovich and I might just shoot you somewhere not fatal. Let you roll around in a wheelchair and piss through a straw."

"Fuck you!" Mickey spat through his clenched teeth. He might have to die here on his knees but fuck if he was going out like a little bitch.

He'd lost sight of Svetlana and he prayed that his silent plea had been heard and she'd finally run. No way would she be able to get help in time for him, but Terry would go to jail for life for this. And they'd all be safe at last. God, please.

"Have it your way, you little sh - " Terry's words were broken by a solid thud. The gun fell away from Mickey's face as his father fell to his knees in front of him, his eyes bulging with shock.

Behind him, Svetlana stood gasping, clutching the Jack Daniels bottle she'd just swung at his head. Terry turned his head towards her in dazed but murderous fury. "Oh, suka, I'm gonna take that out of your ass to - "

Svetlana swung the bottle again and it connected with his temple with a sickening thunk. Terry plummeted forward, face down.

Even in his shock, Mickey had to admire JD's commitment to quality craftmanship. Clearly he'd been hitting Terry with the wrong bottles.

Svetlana was rattling off invectives in Russian as she grasped the bottle with both hands, ready to bring it down again. Mickey jumped up, grabbing her wrists. "Enough; you're going to kill him!"

As he spoke, his gaze traveled back to his father's motionless figure, taking in his ghost white face, his half open eyes, fixed on Mickey, seeing nothing.

"Never mind," he whispered.


	9. The Dark

Chapter Nine: The Dark

All he could do was stare.

Stare numbly at his father's slack face, the man lying facedown, his face turned towards them, empty eyes still open. Stare and wait for the man to blink, for rage to contort his features, to leap up and begin his endless stream of threats and manipulation once more. Because he couldn't be dead. He couldn't be gone.

This couldn't be..._over_.

Next to him, Svetlana was still breathing heavily as Mickey continued to restrain her hands. She struggled now, trying to tear herself away. Her eyes were wild.

"Svetlana, stop!" He shook her, hard, then released a wrist to snatch the Jack Daniels bottle out of her hand. "He's dead!"

The words were release for him as much as her. Terry was dead.

His father was _dead._

"Good!" Svetlana snarled, her mouth twisted in fury.. She leaned forward, her lips pursed, and Mickey realized her intention just in time. "Stop! No fucking DNA!" He clapped his hand over her mouth and she spat into his palm instead. "Fuck!" Disgusted, he wiped his hands on his jeans.

At his words, her eyes bulged. It hit her then; the way the reality of what they'd just done had slammed into him a second ago. He saw it in the widening of her eyes, the way the color drained out of her skin. S

"Oh, God," she whispered then, and continued the prayer in her native language. He shook her again, lightly this time.

"Keep your shit together," he warned her. A few seconds of wide eyed staring, and then she managed a quick jerk of her head to show she understood.

Jesus Fucking Christ. A lifetime of trouble had never prepared him for this. What the fuck were they going to do? Going to the police, throwing themselves on the mercy of the law, that wasn't even a fucking option. They'd take one look at the immigrant prostitute and her pimp husband and lock them away to rot. So that left them with exactly one option: get gone and deny everything. He could drive a Buick through the holes in that plan, but it was the best he had right now.

Mickey took the bottle gingerly from her stiff fingers, looking around nervously all the while. Thank fuck they were isolated here but they still had only minutes, maybe even just seconds before their luck ran out. He spotted a pile of half rotted clothing, stiff and faded from the relentless sun a few feet away and ran over to snatch a tattered shirt fr the pile. Quickly he wiped the bottle clean, hopefully eliminating any fingerprints, and then using the shirt still, uncapped the bottle. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to look at his fathers still face and poured some of the liquor over it. It ran over his face in amber streams, pooling on the ground in a sickening red tinged puddle. Hurriedly he repeated the action with each if his fathers hands.

"What are you doing?" Svetlana demanded, her voice shaking slightly.

"Trying to get rid of any evidence" he replied. His DNA had to be all over Terry, same way that bits of Terry's face were probably permanently embedded in his knuckles. He'd seen enough episodes of Law and Order to know that shit would hang you every single fucking time.

"Will that work?"

He shrugged, dropping the Jack Daniels bottle next to Terry's body. Did it look like he could Google _How To Cover Up Your Unexpected Homicide for Dummies _right now? "No idea. Lets get the hell outta - "

They both froze when they heard the footsteps, the stomp of heavy feet trudging through the overgrown grass from the other side of the building.

"Fuck!" M hissed under his breath. He grabbed s's arm and hustled her through the nearest doorway into the darkened building. They pressed themselves against the wall, out of sight of the broken window.

"Man, where's this fucker at?" He heard a nasally male voice whine. Mickey hazarded a quick peek out the window to see two men, a short, white guy with long, dirty blond hair escaping from a dirty baseball cap, and his tall, thin, head shaved dark haired companion, looking around the field. He recognized them vaguely, a couple of neighborhood junkies he'd chased out of the Kash and Grab more than once.

"Didn't he say he'd be here?" The shorter one asked, walking in agitated circles as he picked at a sore on his face.

His friend started to respond then stopped short with a gasp. "Look!" Mickey stiffened when he saw the man point towards Terry's body, barely visible in the tall grass. "Shit! Is that him?" They approached the body cautiously. "Terry, man, you ok?"

Mickey flinched in response to his father's name on the other man's lips. So Terry had been here to set up a deal; it had just been rotten luck that he and Svetlana had shown up at the same time. Mostly rotten luck for Terry. He suppressed a near hysterical laugh at that; he couldn't afford to lose it now.

"Son of a bitch!" The tall man was yelping now, jumping away from the corpse. "He's fucking dead!"

"Shit!" His friend scratched even more violently at his chin. "Got rolled, looks like. Bet they got his stash."

"Check him!" The other one demanded, and with that they rolled Terry onto his back, earlier reticence gone as they dug through the dead man's pockets.

"Score!" The tweaker crowed triumphantly as he pulled out a plastic baggie from Terry's pocket.

"Fuck yeah! " His friend encouraged. "What else he got?" Mickey watched, amazed and sickened as they happily robbed the corpse without any hesitation whatsoever, scavenging through pockets and taking anything of value.

Mickey's breath caught as the dark haired man picked up the Jack Daniels bottle then threw it back down in apparent disgust at its empty status. He paused then and leaned down, and still peeking through the window, Mickey saw him pick up Terry's gun. "Sweet!" He tucked it into his waistband.

"Let's get the fuck outta here," his companion was looking even twitchier now. They both tossed nervous glances around the lot before hurrying away..

Mickey waited an excruciatingly long minute to make sure they were gone. "K. Let's move."

Svetlana stared at him with wide eyes, unresponsive until Mickey grabbed her by the arm and nearly dragged her through the doorway. After a few seconds of stumbling beside him she seemed to come to life a bit, wiping the blood from her split lip and keeping up better.

"Act normal," Mickey cursed the bright sunlight as they walked. At least it was barely past dawn; not too many people out yet. He guided the two of them through the back alleys as much as he could, trying to keep out of sight.

It seemed to take an eternity for them to reach their apartment complex. They took the steps two at a time, Mickey thanking whatever deity there was that they didn't run into any of their neighbors. As they turned onto their floor, Svetlana stopped, turning to him.

"What are we going to tell Ian and Mandy?" she whispered.

Mickey stopped as well. Hearing Ian's name again was like a brass knuckle punch directly to the heart, and now it was also twisted up with the shock and adrenaline of what had just happened with Terry.

Fucking hell. How was he supposed to deal with all of this? Ian and Mandy...his father...he already felt like he was barely holding on. In that instant he wanted to turn and run...run and run and never stop. Let someone else pick up the pieces and make all the hard decisions.

But there was no one else. And he was a Milkovich, no matter what his father had said. Milkoviches didn't run.

"Nothing. We tell them nothing," he said finally, barely above a whisper.

"But - " Svetlana started to object.

"Look, if we tell them, it makes them accessories. Now I don't plan on us getting caught, but if we do, we aren't taking them down with us. They'll figure it out soon enough when word gets out Terry's dead. Until then, keep your mouth shut. Got it?"

Svetlana nodded. Mickey drew in a deep breath, and then unlocked the apartment door, ushering her inside.

Mandy was in the kitchenette, uncapping a bottle of water. She turned as they entered, but Mickey's eyes were on Ian, who had jumped up from the floor where he'd been playing with Geno as soon as they entered.

"Mickey - " he began, then his eyes widened in shock as he took in Mickey's face. "What happened to you?!"

"You too!" Mandy was staring at the rapidly forming bruise on Svetlana's cheekbone, and her still bleeding lip. Her eyes swung back and forth between her and Mickey. "What the fuck - did you two get into it?"

"No!" Mickey snapped, then stopped. Shit. That was what people were going to think when they saw their mutual injuries. After all, the Battling Mr. and Mrs. Milkovich's mutual disdain for each other had long been a standing neighborhood joke. It was as good of an explanation as any, even if he absolutely hated the idea of people believing he was a wife beating punk ass bitch.

Ian crossed the small room in a few strides and then he was far too close, reaching for Mickey's face. "Tell me what happened."

"None of your fucking business," Mickey jumped back before he could touch him, and hurt crawled across Ian's face.

"Come on, Mickey, please - "

Ignoring Ian, Mickey turned back to his wife. Her face was still bone white, her eyes staring fixedly at nothing. She was clearly in shock or some shit. "Hey. Go take a shower," he told her.

Svetlana stared at him, uncomprehending. He took her gently by the shoulders. "Listen to me. It's going to be alright. Take a shower. I'm going to make you some coffee. Hurry up, OK?" With that, he turned her towards the bathroom, giving her a gentle shove. She went then, tossing a wary look over her shoulder.

"Jesus, Mickey…" Ian and Mandy were both staring at him. It was clear from their expressions that they realized something dire had happened. Ian started to reach for him again and Mickey pulled away once more.

"Don't. I can't deal with you right now, Gallagher," Mickey whirled away and headed to the kitchenette to fill the coffeemaker.

Not one to take a hint even if it was skywritten in magenta, Ian followed him. "I know you're upset with me - "

"Upset?!" Mickey nearly dropped the can of coffee he was holding before he slammed it back down on the counter. Fuck it; Svetlana could make her own damn coffee. He turned back to Ian, laughing with absolutely no humor whatsoever. "You think I'm just upset? You fucked my sister, Ian!"

Mandy flinched violently across the room. Mickey ignored her, his eyes locked on his boyfriend. Ian was pale, but resolute as he tried again. "Please, just let me talk to you - "

"NO!" Mickey turned his back, opening kitchen drawers one after another before he found one full of plastic grocery bags wadded up. He snatched one and turned back to Ian. "I've got other shit going on. I cannot do this right now. Back the fuck off me."

With that, he pushed past Ian, heading towards the bathroom. It had no lock, and he didn't bother to knock. Svetlana was still in the shower; he heard her gasp behind the plastic curtain at the sound of the door.

"It's me," he gentled his voice. "I brought you a bag. I want you to put all your clothes in it, shoes too, understand? Hurry up; I need to shower too."

She said something Mickey couldn't understand under the sound of the water, but he took it as assent anyway. He turned to go and then stopped, rubbing the steam off the bathroom mirror so he could see his own reflection. Watery, slightly red rimmed eyes stared back at him. His lip was split like Svetlana's and he was getting a hell of a shiner. He had a ring of red around his neck where his father had attempted to choke the life out of him, but altogether, he hadn't fared too badly. He'd looked much worse after the fight at the Alibi. This time, it had been Terry who had taken the majority of the damage.

At the thought of Terry's name, his hands began to shake. Cursing himself, he walked out of the bathroom and straight back to the kitchenette. Ignoring the still unmade coffee, he pulled a bottle of Svetlana's favorite vodka down from the top of the fridge and poured two shots. Then he opened the cabinet where they kept Ian's medication.

"What are you doing?" Ian was behind him again.

Mickey gritted his teeth before he snatched the bottles at the front of the cabinet and tossed them at him. "Take your shit."

"I already did!" Ian's voice rose in agitation as he caught the bottles, throwing them back on the counter and glaring at him. Mickey ignored him, digging through the back of the cabinet before he found what he was looking for; a bottle of rarely used tranquilizers that they had been given when Ian first started going through treatment, when his violent mood swings had been at their worst. He uncapped the bottle, dumping two pills in his hand. While Ian stared, he popped one in his mouth and tossed back the shot of vodka to wash it down.

Svetlana emerged from the bathroom then, wrapped in a towel and carrying her bag of clothes. Mickey gestured her over, taking the bag and handing her the second shot of vodka and the other pill. "It'll help you sleep."

She stared at him in silent disbelief. "Take it," Mickey encouraged, and was relieved when she tossed it back. They were both fucked if she couldn't pull herself together. He plucked the bag from her hand and turned her towards the bedroom. "Get some rest." He watched her walk towards her bedroom like a sleepwalker. Once she'd disappeared through the door, he looked up to see Ian and Mandy's wide eyed stares.

"You are scaring the shit out of me, Mickey. Tell me what happened, please! Let me help you!" Ian spread his large hands entreatingly. Mickey stared at them, longing for just a second to let them enfold him, sink into his embrace and let it all wash away.

Instead, he forced himself to look away. "You deaf? I said to back off. Leave me the fuck alone."

"Mickey, fucking stop with the secrecy and tell us what the hell happened!" Mandy burst out. She faced him, hands on her hiops.

Mickey turned slowly, fixing her in a razor sharp glare. "_You_ don't ever get to tell me what to do again." Each word was delivered with cold deliberation. He dismissed her with a glance, turning towards the bathroom.

"I need to shower. Can you two watch Geno or will you be too busy fucking?"

"C'mon, Mickey!" Ian protested.

"Speaking of which…" Mickey, reached into his pocket, pulling out a bill and balling it up before he threw it at Mandy It bounced off her chest, falling to the floor at her feet. "Get the morning after pill. I'm not taking care of another fucking Milkovich who's not mine."

He saw his sister's face crumple as she bent to pick it up and god damn if he didn't feel instantly shitty. Grinding the guilt down as best he could, Mickey didn't look at either of them as he went back into the bathroom. He heard the front door open and slam back shut as he entered and figured she had gone.

After a brief and icy shower, he wrapped himself in a towel, stuffed his clothes in the same bag that contained Svetlana's, and carried it to his bedroom. Ian started to speak once again as Mickey passed him but he didn't bother to acknowledge him, shutting the door with a dismissive click behind him.

Once inside, he went straight to the closet, picking up a box marked TRASH that had fallen on its side and burying the bag of clothes inside it. He'd take the whole thing out later and burn it, hopefully before any search warrants were issued.

His hands were shaking so badly as he tried to pull on a pair of boxers that it took him a few minutes to manage the simple task. Then he went to the window. Since their shithole of an apartment lacked what the landlord considered luxuries like curtains, they'd hung up sheets for privacy. He tucked in the edges, using empty Budweiser bottles from the bedside trashcan and ashtrays to hold down the edges and block the slivers of light. God, he wished it was night. He'd never been scared of the dark like other kids growing up. Dark was soothing. You could hide in it, like he'd hid in the closet from his father. It was the light that was terrifying, the beam of it in his eyes when he was discovered and the door was thrown open. The light would get you every single time.

The room was as dim as it was going to get. Mickey sat down heavily on the floor, his back pressed up against the bed. His whole body was shaking now. He couldn't stop the images in his head, Terry's furious face as he'd tried to choke the life out of his youngest son, the sound the bottle had made when it had connected with his head…

"Jesus...jesus…" he whispered, and he was rocking back and forth, unable to stop the laughter that bubbled out of his chest, the sobs that accompanied it. Why was he crying? Fuck Terry; he hoped that bastard was frying.

But he was still his dad.

And his dad was dead. He'd watched him die. He'd had a hand in it.

And there was nothing that was ever going to make this right. No way to make it OK. Nothing that could make him deny that right now all he wanted was his father back. He didn't want to believe that it had to end like this. God, he didn't know what to do now, how to fill this chasm that was sucking him in and swallowing him whole, making him gasp for breath even as tears poured down his face.

"Mickey?"

The quiet tap on the door froze him. He buried his hand in his hands, trying to muffle the sounds he couldn't stop making. The tremors that shook him eased slightly.

"Mickey. Please." He heard Ian's voice break. No, he couldn't open the door. There was more than that between them now. But fuck, he didn't want him to go. Ian's voice was like a lifeline, something he could grab onto to keep from falling all the way down.

"OK, then," he heard Ian say after a minute. "I'm not leaving, Mickey. No matter what you do. I'm going to be right here. Long as it takes." There was a shuffling noise and then the door moved slightly. Mickey could tell that Ian had settled himself on the floor against it. His large frame blocked the last bit of light that had been creeping under the door and Mickey sucked his breath as it was extinguished.

Back in the dark.

Safe at last.

* * *

_Thanks for reading! Feedback always appreciated._


	10. Burn

It was the squeak of the bedroom door opening that awakened Mickey.

He felt dull, leaden, and he didn't have the energy or motivation to actually open his eyes, but he was awake, enough to register the soft click as the door was shut again behind whoever had entered. He could tell they hadn't left; he could hear slightly hitched breathing and feel a watchful presence at his back as he lay facing the window.

He wasn't quite sure why he wasn't jumping out of bed and demanding an explanation. Hell, he wasn't even sure why he was _in_ bed. Last thing he remembered was the tranquilizer he'd taken earlier unleashing its full power with the subtlety of a baseball bat to the face. He was pretty sure he'd passed out right there on the floor where he'd been sitting, but he was on the bed now, and he could feel the sheet that had been tucked around him.

Dim memories were floating back slightly, shrouded in a dreamlike consistency...Ian's light touch on his arms, his coaxing voice, being nearly lifted off the ground… His heart jolted in his chest almost painfully, helping to wash away the last vestiges of sleep.

Light footsteps were shuffling hesitantly closer. Mickey remained where he was, staring at the wall.

The bed creaked and dipped as his silent companion climbed onto the opposite side, and his heart was painfully jolted, only to still into a dull throb as he realized almost immediately that the person next to him was far too small and too light to be Ian.

"Mickey?"

He tried ignoring her, but Svetlana pressed herself against his back and he was immediately overcome with a highly unwelcome increase in temperature when it was already ball frying hot. "Get off!" The words came out as more of a unintelligible grunt than he'd intended, but it didn't seem like she was inclined to listen anyway. Her whole body was shaking violently against his, so hard it began to rattle the bed.

"You OK?" He managed to force his eyes open and the dim room surged back into view.

"No," she whispered. Her breath hitched and staggered; he could feel it in irregular bursts on the back of his neck. Abruptly she wrapped her arm around his waist, trapping his arm against his body under it.

"Hey!" He snapped at her, still feeling too numb to really fight her off.

Svetlana's shaking only increased in violence. He could feel her fingers against his chest trembling so rapidly it was like she was speeding typing on a keyboard.

"Okay, okay…" he mumbled, and with difficulty, he pried himself out of her octopus-like grip, turning over on the mattress to face her. Her face was bone white, her eyes huge and dilated as she stared back at him.

"Calm down. You're safe now," Mickey tried to make his voice as soothing as possible, which was not really a word in his vocabulary, and fuck, since when did anyone expect him to be comforting anyway?

"I killed him," her voice was still a stark whisper. "I killed Terry."

"Yeah," he nodded, now grateful for the artificial numbness the drug he'd taken was giving him. "You did."

Her face crumpled at that. So...verification had apparently been the wrong way to go. After a moment's hesitation, he reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, patting clumsily. "Hey...breathe. Relax."

Svetlana just blinked at him, a kind of resigned terror settling onto her features. Despite it all, there were no tears in her eyes. He'd never been curious about her past before, but now he found himself suddenly wondering exactly how she'd gotten so broken that she couldn't even cry. Oh, the damage that the hands of a father could wreak...

God, it was like looking into a fucking mirror sometimes.

"I could go to prison forever. Never see my son again. Die alone in a cell." Her tremors increased once more.

"No. You won't," he shook his head.

She stared at him in silent disbelief.

Mickey exhaled, then he took his hand from her shoulder and touched her face, tilting her chin slightly so they were looking each other in the eyes. "Listen to me. You saved my fucking life, doing what you did. I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you."

She exhaled shakily. "Promise?" He could hear the cynicism mixed with the hope in that one word.

"I promise," he kept his eyes fixed on her.

She actually managed to smile at that, putting her hand over the one he still had on her face and squeezing. His first instinct was to yank away, but he battled it back, letting her fingers entwine with his.

"We gotta stick together on this, OK? Keep our heads, get our stories straight, and stick to them. We'll be fine if we can do that. You with me?"

She nodded. "Yes. I'm with you," her voice was becoming slurred, her eyes unfocused. Looked like the tranq he'd given her was finally kicking in.

"Good," he looked over her shoulder at the clock on the bedstand behind her. It was barely nine - he'd only been asleep for a couple of hours.

"Get some rest," he told her now, unnecessarily, as her eyes were already starting to close.

Unbidden, his eyes started to drop shut as well. The dark of unconsciousness was beckoning, and gratefully, he slipped into it once more.

* * *

This time, it was the gasp that woke him.

He didn't know how much time had passed but it was much easier to go from sleeping to waking now, his head clearing quickly as his eyes snapped open to see Ian standing at the foot of the bed, staring down at him and Svetlana. He held a glass of ice water loosely in his fingers as he stared.

"What the hell?" he finally managed, his voice rough. "Is this payback, Mickey?" His eyes traveled accusingly from Mickey's face downwards, and Mickey realized bemusedly that he and Svetlana had fallen asleep holding hands. Their fingers were still wound together, and abruptly, he jerked his fingers from her grip.

The motion woke her up, and she sat up hurriedly. Her tired eyes moved back and forth between the two of them, registering the storm brewing on Ian's face. She jumped up.

"Coffee…" she mumbled under her breath as she made a hasty exit. The door clicked shut behind her, and Ian turned back to Mickey, his eyes sparking.

Mickey almost laughed. Gallagher had some serious gall, trying to act pissed at _him_.

"I didn't fuck her," he snapped as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, standing up. Like he should really have to point out the obvious: the mere idea was repellent.

Ian's shoulders slumped at that, whether in relief or recognition for the hidden accusation in Mickey's words he didn't know. Nor, he told himself firmly, did he give a shit.

"I brought you some water," Ian started to offer him the glass. When Mickey didn't take it, he set it down on the bedside table.

Mickey started to push past him towards the dresser to get some clothes, but Ian used his tall frame to block his path. Before Mickey could object, he reached for his face, his expression set in determination.

"Stop - " Mickey tried to shake him off but Ian would not be waylaid. He gripped the undamaged side of Mickey's face firmly but carefully, trailing the fingers of his other hand tenderly over the bruises that were surely spectacular by now. His thumb brushed slowly over Mickey's split lip.

"Jesus…" Ian sucked in his breath as his fingers moved down to Mickey's neck to lightly finger the marks that ringed it.

"Get the fuck off me, Ian," Mickey tried to inject as much force into his tone as possible, considering that he wasn't doing a damn thing to stop the caress. Fire was burning through his skin at Ian's touch, and his whole body was becoming weak as fuck, begging for more.

"If this had happened to me, you wouldn't let it go," Ian looked at him. "Would you?" The last couple of words were tinged in uncertainty.

Mickey just looked at him. Of course he wouldn't, but he wasn't about to give Ian any encouragement.

"I just want to help you. Please - tell me how to help you!" Ian's grip tightened on him, and that was it, it was enough. He shoved Ian against the opposite wall, for a second not sure himself if he wanted to hit him or kiss him. Or really, he wasn't that uncertain, because he was already kissing him.

Ian grabbed Mickey's face in both hands, and he was kissing him back just as frantically.

The kiss stung bitterly in more ways than one, reopening the cut on Mickey's lip, and he tasted his own blood as it deepened. He was dimly aware that a little voice in the back of his head was cautioning him that this was a bad idea, it wasn't going to change anything, but the screaming need of every cell in his body quickly shanked that doubt into silence and left it alone in a corner to die.

He was pulling Ian's shirt off now and then yanking impatiently at his jeans, fumbling with the uncooperative buttons until he was able to shove them downwards and there it was, the Promised Land.

How was it that every time felt like the first time, like his fingers had never closed around Ian's hardness before, he'd never heard that gasping groan as he caressed him, never had his heart nearly beat right out of his chest when Ian nearly ripped his boxers off and pushed him onto the bed?

He didn't have a chance to reposition himself before the other man was on him, biting the nape of his neck lightly, then pressing the lightest of kisses to his damaged skin. He heard the scrape of a lid being untwisted on the bedside table and nearly lost it in a disturbingly premature manner when he felt the moist finger against him, easing the way before he was filled to his core.

He wasn't even sure what he said, the words hissing out between his clenched teeth, but it must have been flattering because he heard Ian chuckle low in his ear. Impatiently, he bucked his hips against him and was satisfied with the groan he received in response before he was forced down even further and was being fucked so hard that the whole damn mattress was moving back and forth with them, banging the bedframe lightly into the wall.

It wasn't long enough, not nearly long enough, before they were both spasming and shuddering in unison and then Ian collapsed on top of him. It was too fucking hot and he was way too heavy and Mickey couldn't have given less of a shit. If only they could stay this way forever, the rest of the world shut out and nothing more important than the touch of bare skin and the feel of Ian's heart pounding against his back.

But like anything else that was good and right in the world, it couldn't last. Ian pulled away, reaching for some tissues to clean them up, and like a door had been thrown open, everything came surging back in, the rage, the hurt, the mind numbing terror of the last day, the crippling surety that everything in their world right now was truly screwed and not in a good way.

He turned over on his side, facing the wall again like he had earlier. Ian returned to him, pressing himself against Mickey's back and draping an arm over him. Mickey tensed immediately and he knew Ian felt it.

He let him touch him though. Might as well get it while he could, because they were on a speeding out of control train now, and it was going to fly off the tracks at any second.

"Was last night the first time?"

"What?" He felt Ian prop himself up on an elbow, looking down at him.

"You and Mandy. Was last night the first time, or has this been going on for a while?"

Ian fell back into the mattress with a resigned sigh. "It was the only time, Mickey, I swear. We didn't know what the fuck we were doing. She brought home some acid and I was already drunk. I barely even remember it - it was like a dream. I am so sorry - "

"Shut the fuck up," The words were said without heat. There was just too much pain to have any energy for anger.

The strained silence lingered for far too long. He could feel Ian steeling himself to speak again. "Do you want me to leave?"

God. The thought was just - like someone had asked him if he really need those lungs to breathe, or that heart to beat.

But the idea of Ian staying too - looking at him every day, seeing him and Mandy together, being faced every single minute with wondering what the fuck he could have done that was so bad that they'd betray him so easily…

"I don't know. I just - give me some space," He shrugged Ian's arm off of him, sitting up and reaching for his boxer shorts.

Ian stood up too. "Mickey, I get it, I do, but how is space what you need right now? You can't handle everything on your own! I don't know what you and Svetlana got into, but something is seriously fucked up. I haven't seen you like this since the wedding - " he broke off, horrified understanding dawning on his features. "Jesus. _Terry_."

Mickey didn't even have it in him to deny it. He just pulled on his clothes.

"Mickey, tell me what happened! What the fuck did he do to you? What the fuck is going on?"

And just then, there was a loud pouding at the door. They could hear the shout clearly through the flimsy apartment walls.

"Open up! Police!"

Mickey looked at Ian's slack jawed expression.

"Looks like you're about to find out."

* * *

_Thanks for reading! Feedback always appreciated!_


	11. Cracks

**Chapter 11: Cracks**

The pounding echoed once again through the apartment, harsh and unwelcoming. "Police, open up!" Came the shout again.

They heard a door open and footsteps run down the hallway before the bedroom door burst open. Mandy was standing there, her eyes enormous. "Mickey, what the hell - "

"I got this," he pushed past her as the knocking grew harder and more impatient. Mandy and Ian were right on his heels. He didn't see Svetlana; she was probably hiding in her bedroom.

He allowed himself one single second of unadulterated panic before he pulled open the door. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He wasn't ready for this. Hadn't even had a chance to go over their cover story with Svetlana, still had a bag of clothes in his closet nicely packed up as evidence to hang his stupid ass. It wasn't like he hadn't expected that he'd probably spend the majority of his adult life in the big house but he'd thought he might have a few good years first.

Fuck it. What was done was done. He pulled open the door.

"Hi, Mickey."

OK, so Tony the Friendly Neighborhood Cop wasn't exactly the baton swinging uniformed pig he'd expected would be dragging his sorry ass into the squad car. How embarrassing; he was going to get cuffed and marched off by Fiona's former pussy boy in front of the whole neighborhood.

Tony wasn't alone though; he was accompanied by a taller officer with a thinning scalp and a tired, lined face accented by surprisingly observant eyes. He looked vaguely familiar. His eyes were fixed on Mickey for a long moment, then the man looked at Tony.

"Oh, sorry," Tony flushed slightly. "This is my new partner, Officer O'Neill."

"Good for you," Mickey said flatly. "This is a social call or what?"

Tony took a deep breath. "Your sister around? We need to talk to both of you."

"I'm right here," Mandy stepped forward. "What's going on, Tony?"

Tony took a deep breath, looking anxious. "I'm afraid I've got some bad news for the two of you."

Before he could continue, his partner held up a hand. "Wait a minute," he turned back to Mickey. "What happened to your face, son?"

_Dammit. _Mickey opened his mouth, not exactly sure what he was going to say.

"His big mouth, that's what," The words were spoken in an amused, strongly accented drawl. Mickey turned around to see Svetlana, leaning against the wall, still tying her silk robe. She turned her face, deliberately giving both officers a clear view of the vibrant bruise on her cheekbone and her split lip. "He tells me I spend too much money. I tell him he spends too much time fucking his boyfriend," she indicated Ian with a jerk of her chin. "We got into it. I won." She smirked, and Mickey was beyond amazed at her calm. What had happened to the terrified woman clinging to him a few hours ago?

Tony hurriedly covered his smile with his hand. His partner raised an eyebrow, looking back at Mickey. "You have a boyfriend and wife in the same household? That's one interesting setup."

Svetlana shrugged, once again saving Mickey from speaking. "We are...what do you call it? Modern people." She shot her sexiest grin at the officer, but it seemed to have a far greater effect on Tony, who was eyeing her exposed cleavage with gusto. Mickey gave him a hard glare and he had the grace to flush and look away.

"Well, just cool it with the arguments, okay? I don't want to have to pick either of you up on a domestic," Tony was trying for an authoritative tone and as usual, failing utterly. It was like being scolded by an overeager Golden Retriever. How the fuck did he not get his ass kicked every single day?

"No worry, we are all made up now," Svetlana put her hands on Mickey's shoulders and leaned against him.

"You said you had news for us?" Mandy broke in impatiently.

"Yeah," Tony's face grew serious. "I'm...really sorry to have to tell you guys this, but your father was found in a lot over on 5th a few hours ago. I'm afraid he's - deceased."

Even though he knew to expect the words, they were still like a low blow gut punch. As long as it had only been Svetlana and him that knew, it was almost as if the universe could still reverse it, make it not be true.

Now it was real. It wasn't going away.

Mandy was gasping for breath, her eyes filling. "He's...dead?"

"I'm sorry," Tony reached out to pat Mandy's arm as she began to sob, seemed to think better of it halfway there, and withdrew his hand.

"How?" Mickey managed. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Ian's stunned, all too knowing glance in his direction.

"The detective in charge will have more information for you, but at this point it does appear to be a homicide," Officer O'Neill took over. "He was found in an area known for drug dealing, and given his propensities, it could have been a deal gone bad."

Mandy was crying too hard to speak, but Mickey was not oblivious to the accusing look she shot him. The resulting guilt coiled acidly in his stomach.

"I'm afraid that's not the only bad news we have for you," Officer O'Neill's voice was gentle as he looked at Mandy's tear streaked face. "Igor Milkovich is your half brother?"

Mickey felt his heart jump into his throat. "Why?" He burst out. All he could hear now was his father's mocking words about how he'd punished Iggy for not selling Mickey and Mandy out.

"He's at Northwestern Memorial Hospital. Apparently, your father attacked him. We'd actually been looking to bring him back in on assault charges when his body was found."

"Is he going to be OK?" Mickey demanded as Mandy gasped and turned so white she looked like she was going to pass out. Instantaneous fury was immediately dissolving his former guilt. Goddamn Terry for the piece of shit psychopath he had been.

"He's in bad shape," Tony's face was wreathed in sympathy. "Broken jaw, fractured ribs, among other injuries. He won't be getting out of the hospital for quite a while."

"This seems to have been a pattern with your father, it appears," Officer O'Neill was looking at Mickey again. "Celebrating a release from jail by trying to beat one of his kids to death."

At those words, the memories clicked and Mickey knew where he'd seen Officer O'Neill before. He was the cop who'd let him go that night at the Alibi, the one with the _husband_.

"Did you know your father was out of jail?" Officer O'Neill asked suddenly, and Mickey didn't like the way those too observant eyes were studying him.

"No," he muttered. "We weren't exactly on speaking terms."

"Hmmm," the older man didn't seem entirely convinced. "Well, Detective Simmons has been assigned to the case and I'm sure he'll need statements from you and your sister at some point, so you might want to plan on making a trip to the station sooner rather than later." His gaze drifted to Svetlana and Ian. "May need to talk to you two as well, so it would be helpful if you keep yourselves available." It wasn't exactly a 'don't leave town' order for the four of them, but it was close enough, and Mickey felt a trickle of sweat roll down his back that had nothing to do with the heat.

Tony handed Mickey and Mandy each a small card with the detective's number on it and a scrawled case number, then amid more apologies he and his partner departed.

Mickey had no time to be relieved that he wasn't accompanying them - almost as soon as the door closed Mandy launched herself at him.

"You killed him!" Thankfully her words were mostly garbled sobs; even if the officers had stayed outside the door they probably wouldn't have been able to understand her.

Mickey couldn't even bring himself to raise his hands to defend himself. He just stood there as Mandy swung wildly, ranting incomprehensibly. Ian jumped forward, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her back. At the same time, Svetlana jumped between Mandy and Mickey, turning to face her sister in law with flashing eyes. "Not him," her words were deliberate. _"Me."_

Both Ian and Mandy gaped at her, open-mouthed, before Mandy's features darkened furiously and she lunged at Svetlana this time, tearing herself from Ian's slack grip. "Fucking murderer!"

"Don't touch her!" Now Mickey did move, blocking his sister before she reached his wife and pushing her back. "He had a gun to my fucking head! He would have killed me if it wasn't for her!"

"God, Mickey…!" Ian nearly choked out the words, so pale that each freckle stood out in vivid color. His eyes were locked on Mickey even as he grabbed Mandy once more. It wasn't really necessary; all the fight had gone out of her at Mickey's last words. She stood mute, hands dropped at her sides, eyes wide, looking sickened.

"Maybe she should have let him, right? Is that what you would have wanted, Mandy?" Even as the words spilled out, Mickey knew he shouldn't be saying them, but he couldn't stop, everything he'd been stuffing for the last several hours boiling over at last. "With me out of the way, you'd have Ian all to yourself. Would that have been better?"

Mandy's face was aghast. "How can you even _say_ that to me, Mickey?"

"How could you do what you did to me?!" Mickey couldn't stop, even as he knew this had to qualify as the worst timing ever. "You wanted to hurt me, right? Well, congratulations, you succeeded. Why stop at fucking Ian, huh? In fact, why don't you run down to the police station and turn us in? When I'm doing life, will that be enough to make you feel better about whatever the fuck it is that you've been holding against me?"

"I would never - " Mandy's voice was a breathless protest, fresh tears pooling in her eyes.

" '_You would never…'_ " Mickey mocked her words. "There's a lot of things I never thought you'd do."

Mandy flinched as if he'd punched her, and with a strangled sob, she yanked open the front door and disappeared. They heard her footsteps pound down the hallway and another distant slam. Ian took a step towards the open door, then looked back, his expression torn. He started to turn towards Mickey.

"Go on, go after her," Mickey snapped. "She needs you. I don't."

Not waiting for Ian's response he pushed past Svetlana and went back to his bedroom, banging the door shut behind him. A minute later he heard the front door slam and the corresponding pain made him catch his breath.

He couldn't think about it now though, because if he did he was going to break so hard he knew he'd never be able to put himself back together. There were other people depending on him now.

Pulling out his cell phone he dialed information and a few minutes later he was on the line with the hospital.

* * *

Two days.

It had been two days since Terry's body was found and while a shitload of events had happened since, the one thing Mickey'd been expecting had not. He had not been arrested. He had not even been threatened with being arrested, despite the fact that he'd spent quite a bit of time nose to nose with more cops than he'd been even in his juvie days.

He still couldn't think about his blindingly dumb luck without a sense of amazed disbelief.

Because someone _had_ been arrested for Terry's murder. Two someones, in fact.

The two junkies that had robbed Terry's body were the most incredibly stupid shits to ever twitch their way around the neighborhood. Not only had they helpfully left fingerprints on Terry's corpse, not to mention the murder weapon, but they'd been picked up with his wallet, ATM cards, and his gun still on them. And if that hadn't been moronic enough to leave any self respecting South Side thug hanging their head in shame, the two half wits had been bragging all over town that they'd taken out Terry Milkovich to anyone who'd sit still long enough to listen.

From what the police had told Mickey, the two had changed their tune fast enough when they were hauled into a police interrogation room, but no one was buying the story that they'd simply stumbled upon Terry's body. They were an easy solution to a case that no one really cared about. Life long South Side criminal meets his deserving end in a trash strewn field and two petty criminals who'd already been merrily prancing down the road to their own full time incarceration any way had been popped for it. Case closed.

It was almost enough to force Mickey to admit that there could actually be a God. One that may even have a soft spot towards a certain fucked for life Milkovich.

Then again, maybe this God just had a really sadistic sense of humor, and liked to drag things out, letting him think he was off the hook before reeling him into the gallows.

Mickey rubbed his fingers across his lips as he sat at the kitchen table, an untouched plate of toast rapidly going stale in front of him.

The newspaper was spread out before him. Terry's death had rapidly been relegated to back page news. For the 17th time, Mickey read the paragraph that had been giving him cold chills all morning.

_Police did confirm that despite 'an obvious attempt to destroy it, DNA evidence was recovered from the scene. Prosecutors seem confident that this evidence will be the final piece that makes their case against Gaines and Stroger, even as the accused mens' defense teams insists it will clear their clients. Which side is correct remains to be seen as DNA evidence can take months to process. _

Mickey sat the paper back down with a near silent groan. He hadn't told anyone about this, not Svetlana, nor Mandy, and especially not Ian. Nor had he told anyone that he'd gotten a call this morning from Detective Simmons, requesting him to come back to the police station and submit a DNA sample to 'eliminate' him from the suspect pool.

What was the point of telling them? There was nothing they could do. No one could take this burden from him. His DNA would be a match and he'd be upriver without a paddle and there was not a fucking thing anyone could do about it. The only thing that Mickey could control was not letting Svetlana drown with him. Geno needed at least one parent and it didn't take a brainiac to figure out which one he needed more.

Mickey's increasingly grim thoughts were interrupted by a wet splat. He looked to see a glop of foul smelling green mush landed right in the center of the newspaper. Mickey looked up to see Geno, who was sitting in his high chair next to the table, shaking his baby spoon and chortling happily as food flew everywhere.

Mickey looked back at the now unreadable paper with a half smile, half grimace. "My thoughts exactly, kid."

He balled it up then stood up and walked over to the baby. Geno stared up at him, giggling. After a moment's hesitation, Mickey plucked the spoon out of Geno's tiny fingers. "Lets try actually eating some of this shit, huh?"

Gingerly, he scooped up some of the gunk remaining in the plastic bowl and aimed for Geno's mouth, wondering once again what the fuck he'd been thinking when he'd volunteered to feed the kid. Of course, it had been worth it just to see the stunned look at Svetlana's face. She'd actually been shocked into silence for a few minutes when Mickey had plucked Geno from her arms and carried him away. He had just figured if most of his relationship with Geno was going to be once a month on visitor's day in the big house, he might as well get in some quality time while he could.

"Need some help there?" Ian had wandered into the kitchen just in time to see Mickey duck the mouthful of mush that Geno was spitting back at him.

"No. I got this," The rejection came out harsher than Mickey had intended, and he watched the hope quickly flicker and die on Ian's face. Stepping firmly on the resulting guilt the way he'd mash a cockroach on the sole of his shoe, he looked away.

"You really don't need me any more, do you, Mickey?"

The words were barely more than a whisper. Mickey turned back, but Ian was already leaving the kitchen and disappearing down the hallway.

"Ian, wait…"

The redhead didn't hear him, and Mickey didn't try again. What would he say anyway? He had barely spoken to Ian or Mandy the last couple of days. The strained atmosphere around the apartment was nearly unbearable, and he was almost grateful for the constant distractions that kept him busy, like visiting Iggy in the hospital. It hadn't been much of a visit; his brother couldn't exactly make conversation with his jaw wired shut but he'd touched Mickey's hand and his eyes had shown his gratitude that Mickey was there. That had made Mickey feel both better and worse. He didn't know why Iggy didn't seem to hate him for being directly responsible for landing him in that bed, but he'd take what he could get.

"Hey. You let him make a mess."

Svetlana had entered the kitchen now, immediately heading over to the high chair to look over her food spattered son with a sigh before going over to the sink and soaking a washcloth to start cleaning up.

"Carrot Boy is upset," she said as she ran the water.

"Who gives a shit?" The words were automatic, even as the knife in Mickey's gut twisted once more.

"You do," she said, unmoved by his scowl as she started to wash Geno's face and hands. "How long you going to let this go on for?"

"Me?" He glared at her. "How is this my responsibility? I'm not the one who decided to trip out Grateful Dead style and fuck someone else, am I?"

Svetlana shrugged. "You've done other things," she turned back towards him, her expression softening. "You are unhappy. I just want to help. Make things right between you two."

"Well, you can't," he snapped. "I just - " God. He didn't even know what the fuck he wanted and he couldn't tell Svetlana any way. Even if she was the person he could talk to the most these days, and if that wasn't a twist he'd never seen coming he didn't know what was. But Mickey couldn't tell her that there was probably no point to even trying to work things out with Ian now. What could he offer him? Fifty years of talking on a phone with a partition in between them, touching hands through the plexiglass? No fucking way. Better to let it die out now, a natural death, let Ian move on.

"You just what?" He hadn't noticed that Svetlana was still waiting on him to finish his sentence; he'd been too caught up in the beyond agonizing thought of how it would feel if Ian really did give up.

"I need space. I need time to figure things out," He didn't realize how true the words were until he said them. If only life could stop happening for just a few days, stop raining its never ending stream of shit on his head, give him time to breathe and think and figure out where the hell to go from here.

Svetlana gave him a long look, looking as though she wanted to say something else. He was beyond grateful when she remained silent, turning to pick Geno up.

Before she exited, she paused next to his chair, then leaned down, pressing her lips to his. "Figure it out," she murmured in his ear. "He will not wait forever."

No. No, he wouldn't.

Forever was a long time to wait, indeed.


	12. Ghost of You

Chapter Twelve: Ghost of You

"I don't know, V," Fiona looked down at the other woman from her perch on the ladder. "Don't you think they're a little...festive for the occasion?"

The two of them were standing inside the barroom at the Alibi, hanging gaily colored streams and balloons from every post and light fixture they could reach. It was late morning, normally a time when the regular barflies would begun to line up at the bar, while hung over, raccoon eyeliner wearing Russian women would be sidling through the crowd, looking for takers to usher upstairs. Today, however, a 'Closed For Private Party' sign hung on the door and every chair and barstool was empty. The tables had been pushed away from the center of the room, which was now gated off with a series of colorful, interlocking plastic walls now enclosing the adorable twin baby girls who were playing in the middle of it.

"Please, like anyone is going to pretend Terry Milkovich's death is anything besides a reason to celebrate," Kev came backing through the backdoor, balancing several cases of liquor in his arms.

"Yeah, but it's still supposed to be a memorial, right?" Fiona climbed down off the ladder and surveyed her handiwork critically, head cocked.

"Wake," V corrected. "One we wouldn't be even bothering with if Mickey wasn't Kev's business partner. It's the least we can do for him and Mandy." She stood next to Fiona. "I think it looks good," she eyed the clock on the wall. "We still have a few hours anyway. We'll get Carl to jack some flowers from the front of the florist's on 3rd right before everyone's supposed to arrive. That'll formal it up a little,"

"Sure," As V went to check on the girls, Fiona wandered over to the bar and began to help Kev unpack the boxes of liquor. There was companionable silence for a moment, only broken by the happy babbling and occasional shrieks that Amy and Gemma were making.

"OK, that's it. I can't stand it anymore,," V came over to the bar as well, walking behind it to start pulling racks of glasses out of the lower cabinets. "We gonna talk about the big felonious elephant in the room or what?"

Kev and Fiona looked up at her in surprise and V arched an eyebrow. "Oh, come on... Does anyone here think it was a coincidence that Mickey and Svetlana both showed up with faces full of hurt right around the same time that Milkovich Senior got his ticket punched?"

Fiona swallowed hard as V gave voice to the thoughts that had been swirling around in her head for days. "But they caught the guys that did it," she protested weakly, knowing her tone gave away that she didn't believe that any more than they did.

"Sure, they did," Kev rolled his eyes as he finished stacking the last of the boxes. "Pair of mooks in the wrong place at the wrong time if you ask me," he added and V nodded her agreement.

"Shit," Fiona set down the rag she'd just picked up to help V wipe down the glasses. "What about Ian? Do you think he was involved?

"He's not the one with the bruises," V leaned forward and gave Fiona's hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Bet he knows all about it though," Kev interjected and V shot him a dirty look. "Oh, we were trying for denial here? Sorry, didn't mean to rain all that duh down on your parade."

Fiona sighed deeply, leaning her elbows on the bar. "I don't even know how to process this. It's the last kind of shit I wanted Ian twisted up in. What should we do?"

They were all silent for a minute then V smiled broadly. "Imma make them a cake. You know, for tonight."

Fiona stared at her. "A 'Congratulations On Getting Away with Patricide' cake?"

"Yeah!" V beamed. "Can you think of a better occasion?"

"Don't actually write that on there, though," Kev interjected hastily

"Well, I'm glad you two are taking this so well!" Exasperated, Fiona put her hands on her hips. "What about my brother? What about the two innocent people that are going to jail?"

Kev and V exchanged astonished looks. "Fiona, haven't you been reading the paper?" V continued. "They both have rap sheets a mile long. One of them is a registered sex offender! Innocent, my left titty. I say throw away the key and let them rot."

"Come on, Fiona," Kev's face became serious. "Whatever went down, Mickey and Svetlana did what they had to do. You ought to know MIckey, at least, well enough to know that by now."

"Yeah," Fiona dropped her hands. "I do know. I just wish so many different things. I wish Ian wasn't a part of this. Fuck. I wish _Mickey_ wasn't a part of this. Haven't they been through enough? I wish I knew how to help.."

"Best thing to do if you want to help is forget this conversation ever happened," Kev looked at Fiona's worried expression. "Hey, Fi, I know it's hard to believe, but this time, luck's on the right side. Just let it play out the way it was meant to."

"Yeah," Fiona flipped her hair away from her face and exhaled before she finally managed a smile. "What would I do without my morally ambiguous friends to guide me?"

"Go to church. Do your taxes," V thought for a moment. "Marry some whitebread surburban schmuck with a tiny dick and have nothing but missionary position sex for the rest of your life. Join the PTA and get hooked on Vicodin by the time you're forty just so you can forget how much you want to shank everyone around you with a butter knife. That kind of stuff."

"Fuck that; thank God you're here!" Laughing, Fiona threw her arms around V's neck. "Come on, I'll help you with the cake. Hey, which flavor says patricide better...vanilla or chocolate?"

* * *

Three hours later, the Alibi was packed. Fiona was pretty sure at least half of the people there hadn't been invited; she'd definitely seen some of the Alibi's usual suspects sneaking in among friends and family and stealthily sidling up to the bar to get their tipple on. Even now she saw one man she'd never seen before in her life, and she was certain all the Milkoviches could say the same, raise his glass high in the air. "To Larry! May you rest in peace!"

"To Larry!" There was a chorus of agreement. Yep. People were definitely here for the free booze.

Her own father was by far not the least of these. Frank was holding court at the end of the bar, an uncomfortable looking Sheila by his side. "That's right!" he yelled, a good minute after everyone else had already set their glasses down. "To Lar - I mean, Terry! May his feet dance on hot coals and his backside be prodded by angry imps for all of eternity!" He tossed back his drink as the crowd around him fell awkwardly silent at that, sipping their beers and throwing cautious glances at the older two Milkovich brothers, Colin and Joey, who were seated at the table in the middle of the room, scowling and looking generally unpleasant, as per the Milkovich family credo.

"What?" Frank looked around at his now quiet court. "You were all thinking it!"

Fiona covered her snort of laughter with her hand as she made her way to where V and Kev were sitting. "Hey," she said as she sat down next to them. "What are you two looking at?"

Both Kev and V had been staring fixedly across the bar, but at her words they looked back at her. "Your brother and his highly entertaining daytime drama of a life, that's what," V indicated Ian, who was seated several tables away, with a jerk of her chin. "I don't even know why I bother to record Days of Our Lives anymore. I'm just going to go over to his place between 2 and 3 o'clock on weekdays from now on."

"What do you - _oh_." Fiona followed V's gaze. Ian was at a corner table, alone, his face woebegone and a half empty beer in front of him. Mickey and Svetlana were at the next table. Mickey's back was to her brother, and he seemed completely oblivious to Ian's sad faced watchfulness. And was it her imagination, or did Mr. and Mrs. Milkovich, who couldn't stand each other last she checked, looking awfully cozy all the sudden?

Even as she watched, Svetlana put her hand over Mickey's as it rested on the table and squeezed. Instead of jerking it away, he looked directly at her and gave her a faint smile.

"What. The. Fuck." Kev mouthed the words.

"And what the hell is going on with Mandy?" V indicated the dark haired girl. Mandy was sitting in between her two older brothers at the center table. Her shoulders were slumped and she looked paler than ever. Fiona could see the dark shadows under her eyes even from this distance.

"Well, her father did just die…" Fiona's voice trailed off.

"Yeah, that doesn't explain why I haven't seen her exchange one word with either Mickey or Ian all night. Something's going on with those four and it's a hot mess." V nudged Fiona's shoulder hard. "Go find out! I need some juicy gossip to occupy my mind when I'm rocking crying babies at 3am."

Even as she spoke, they watched Ian suddenly stand up, setting his now empty glass down. He threw a couple of dollars on the table and with one more lingering glance at Mickey, who still didn't look at him, he wound his way through the tables, heading towards the hallway that led towards the bathrooms and the back exit.

Fiona caught up with him halfway down the hall. "Ian, wait!"

Ian turned towards her, and she didn't like the look on his face at all. Like Mandy, he was too pale, with circles under his eyes. But far worse was the stark expression in those eyes, an absence of hope that reminded her far too much of those weeks when he'd been at his worst.

"Hey, what's going on?" She was far too concerned to bother easing into it.

Ian swallowed. For a moment, she was certain he was going to brush off her concern as he'd done so many times before, but in a few seconds, his eyes filled with tears.

"Fiona, can I come back home for a while?"

"Yeah, of course!" She was truly scared now. If things were bad enough that Ian would even consider leaving Mickey, then they were tiptoeing on catastrophic territory as far as her brother was concerned. She put her hands on either side of his face. "Tell me what's going on, please. What happened between you and Mickey?"

Ian just shook his head and she could tell he was barely holding it together. "I can't talk about it right now," his voice was shaking and it tore at her heart. "I just need to get out of here. I want to get some clothes and shit before - " he broke off, looking back at the tables towards Mickey.

"Before Mickey gets home," Fiona finished for him. She took a deep breath. "OK. Get your stuff. But I expect to see you home in an hour and then we will talk, right?"

"Sure," Ian actually managed a small smile. "I'll be there, Fiona. I promise," Gently, he pushed her hands off his face. "See you soon."

"OK,' Fiona whispered after him as he moved down the hallway. "Soon." Reluctantly, she turned and went back to join the party.

* * *

"Geno won't be able to sleep at night without you."

Ian spun around at the sound of Svetlana's voice. She was leaning against the wall, apparently having just emerged from the bathroom..

"You heard," he said flatly.

She nodded. "You are really going?"

Hearing the words framed out loud pierced him sharply but he nodded slowly. "It's for the best. I'm not - " Ian broke off. He didn't want to say it, because saying it made it real. Saying that he wasn't doing well, that he could feel every particle of the downward spiral that was threatening to pull him in, made him feel so fucking weak.

So be it. He was weak then. He thought he could handle it, the near crushing guilt over what he'd done, the way he'd betrayed Mickey and taken his sister away from him at the same time. And he'd tried to handle the revelation about Terry's latest rampage too, weathering the nightmarish images of Mickey at his mercy once again, the way he'd been that day that still burned like sandpaper against bare flesh to remember.

Yeah, Ian could do those things and more. He could handle the nightmares, stay on his meds, help take care of Geno, be understanding about his boyfriend's wife, even help carry the secret truth about a man's death. He could handle Mickey too, handle his pain, his rage, the way he lashed out when he was hurt, like a wild animal, all slashing claws and ripping teeth, frantically searching for a way to escape the pain and fear.

What he couldn't handle was MIckey's fucking indifference. What killed him a million different ways every second was looking into the eyes of the person he'd walk through fire for and seeing nothing except his own transparent reflection, a ghost in Mickey's eyes, drifting and insignificant.

Every time Ian reached out, every time he was met with nothing at all in return, he felt himself fray around the edges a little bit more. And he knew where it will lead when that final thread got pulled. He had to leave now, before that happened and he fell so far into the deep that he might not be able to climb out again.

"Well, I'd better get going - " At a loss of what else to say, Ian started to move past Svetlana.

"I used to hate you, you know," Svetlana's words stopped him in his tracks and he turned back to face her. She took a deep breath. "When i married Mickey, I didn't fool myself that it was true love. But he was my husband. I let myself believe he'd take care of me and Geno. Of course, that was just a fairytale. He couldn't stand to even look at me. And how could I blame him for that? I told myself so many lies just to be able to get up in the morning., that one day he'd forgive me, that for the first time ever, I'd have a real family. Then I saw there was one person in the way of that, and I hated you so much. I would have killed you in your sleep if I could have," she smiled faintly.

Ian sagged into the wall next to her, wondering why she was telling him this. It wasn't anything he hadn't already known. "I felt the same way about you," he told her, feeling in his pockets for his cigarettes before he remembered for the thousandth time that he'd quit. "You were the one person who made me and him impossible, made me realize he wasn't ever going to be with me for real. I wanted you to disappear. I used to dream about it."

Lacking cigarettes, he did find an old breath mint lining his pocket and blew the lint off of it before he popped it into his mouth. "That was before though," he looked at her. "Back when I couldn't even function, you were always around. I remember all those dumb stories you used to tell me about your clients, and how you'd talk in Russian and how you'd stay up all night with me just like you did with Geno. I don't know why, if it was just to get in good with Mickey, Keep your friends close and enemies closer, whatever. I don't give a shit what your reasons were, because you were there, and it made a difference, whether you know it or not. Thank you for that."

Svetlana blinked, and he was startled to see the emotion in her eyes. "You're right, it wasn't for you, not at first. But see, you weren't the only one who needed a friend," she exhaled shakily. "Do you know what it was for me to live in that house? Stuck here, in this strange country, with a baby no one wanted? Coming here to the Alibi every day to sell myself to men who could decide to beat me to death instead of paying for a blow job and no one would have noticed or cared. Sleeping next to a man that would have been delighted if I never came home again. I had no one. Not until you. You've been my friend. You do not know how bad I needed one."

"I'm still your friend, Svetlana," Ian touched her hand. "Don't really need me any more though. You've got Mickey now."

Svetlana smiled. "Maybe. Not the way you have him," she laughed at Ian's expression. "I would not want him like that any way. Too much - how do you say it? Baggage? You can have it all.. I am happy with my little piece." She sobered. "You do still want him, yes?"

Ian just looked at her. Of all the obvious questions…

"Good," she stepped closer to him. "So you go. You both take time to breathe. You figure it out. Because if you can't, you do not deserve him. And I promise you, even if you are my friend - you ever hurt him again, and I will cut off your joystick. And I think you know now what I am capable of."

With a truly terrifying grin, she turned and walked down the hallway. "Yeah," Ian muttered to her disappearing back. "I'll keep that in mind." He watched as she rejoined Mickey at their table, and pain burned like fire all over again, but this time, it was threaded with resolution.

With one final glance, he turned and walked away.

For now.

* * *

Mandy idly swirled the amber liquid around in her glass, trying desperately hard to shut out the babble of the crowd all around her. She'd shown up deliberately late for this little Gallagher hosted shindig in the hopes that it would have been in the throes of winding down and she could escape quickly. But no, she should have known better. No one seemed to have any inclination to put an end to this farce of a memorial any time soon.

Looking up, she found herself caught in a crossfire of Gallagher optical headlights. In one direction, she saw Fiona, V, and Kev, their heads turned towards her as they spoke quietly to each other. She glared at them fiercely until they looked away, only to catch a glimpse of Lip's head turning towards her. He was sitting in a corner booth with his sorority bitch, his arm around her waist. She had her arm around his neck in return, practically sitting in his lap, and it looked like she was talking a mile a minute.

Lip didn't appear to be listening. His eyes were locked on to Mandy, and he didn't look away even when she gave him her most blistering look in return.

"Fucking faggot," Joey muttered to her left, catching her attention. He was looking over at Mickey's table. "Look at him, fucking sitting there with that Commie whore like he don't got a care in the world. Dad's dead and he don't even give a shit."

"Piece of shit limp wristed fairy boy is what he is," Colin agreed loudly, draining his fourth beer of the evening. "Won't even help us pay for a coffin. Told me I should let them fry him and piss the ashes down the toilet. He got less family loyalty then a fucking dog. How can you stand to live with that sadass boy fucker, Mandy?'

Mandy rolled her eyes, pointedly ignoring him. This was fucking pathetic, the game her two oldest brothers were trying to play. She knew Mickey heard their deliberately loud attempts to set him off; she saw it in the rigid set of his shoulder, the way the muscles jumped in his cheek every few minutes. He knew what Colin and Joey wanted as well as she did. It was a routine they'd learned at their father's knee. They wanted Mickey - no, they _needed_ him. Without their father, they were on a wind tossed boat with no captain. So they were trying desperately to provoke their Alpha dog until he beat them into their proper place, in line behind him, taking orders and breaking heads at his behest. It was all Colin and Joey knew.

But Terry was dead now, and Mickey wasn't playing his game any more. She wished she could tell him that she was proud of him for not giving in. He'd never be like Terry, even if Colin and Joey couldn't figure that out.

She didn't want to play Terry's game any more either. Once upon a time, she could have told Mickey that. But that was before she'd burned everything between them to the ground.

Fuck this; she'd had enough for one night. She stood up, ignoring Joey and Colin's immediate protests, and started to make her way to the door.

"Mandy!" A brilliant flash of red caught her eye and she turned to see Debbie Gallagher standing with a group of scruffy looking teen boys. The tallest one had his arm around Debbie.

Debbie detached herself from his grasp and threw her arms around Mandy. "I haven't seen you in so long!" She stepped back, smile fading. "I'm so sorry about your dad."

"Thanks," Mandy shoved her hands into her pockets. "Who's this?"

Debbie beamed, moving back towards the boy. "This is Toby, my boyfriend." Her eyes sparkled happily.

"What happened to Matty?" Mandy asked, giving Toby a cynical once over. She didn't like the way he stared back, eyeing her body from head to toe and deliberately licking his lips.

Debbie didn't seem to notice. "Please. I'm _so_ over him." Debbie scoffed. "Toby's the one I've been waiting for." She leaned back towards Mandy, lowering her voice. "Plus, he's 17! It's totally legal!" She grinned.

"Wow," Mandy said automatically. "Congratulations."

Debbie didn't seem to register her lack of enthusiasm. "I took your advice when it comes to boys," she whispered as Toby conversed with his friends. "Even sent him some sexy selfies, real ones this time!"

"Great," Mandy smiled weakly. "Good for you." Jesus fucking Christ. What kind of monster had she helped to create?

"Hey Debbie, we gotta blow," Toby tapped Debbie on the shoulder and then made a big show of kissing her deeply and wetly while his friends hooted and cat called around them.

Across the bar, Mandy saw Fiona scowling deeply as she watched the boy manhandle her sister, and Mandy could only imagine the epic arguments they'd had about him. It felt beyond weird. Looks like, for once, they were on the same page. _Don't worry, Fiona_, Mandy thought to herself. _I got this._

Debbie waved an enthusiastic goodbye as Toby and his friends exited. "I gotta go too," Mandy told her and Debbie's face fell. "Aw! Ok but we have to hang out soon," she smiled brightly. "I need more advice. About _sex_," she whispered the last, smiling conspiratorily.

Mandy felt her stomach sink like a 3rd class passenger on the Titanic, but she forced herself to smile anyway. "Sure. Anytime." One last hug, and she was out the door.

Toby and his friends hadn't gone far and it was easy to catch up, falling into step behind them unnoticed.

He was talking loudly to his enraptured court, and every word drifted back to her clearly. "So I haven't tapped that yet, because she wants it to be _special_." He drew out the last word mockingly. "But it'll be soon. She's so fucking in love with me she'll let me do anything I want with her. Man, I love virgins!"

"You get all the chicks, dickhead." One of his friends complained.

"Yeah, but don't I always pass them off to you when I'm done?" She could see his far too pleased with himself expression clearly even in the gathering gloom of dusk. "Don't worry, you'll get a taste of Little Debbie's snack cake when I'm done with her."

Mandy had heard enough. She cleared her throat loudly. "Nice way to talk about your girlfriend, asshole."

The four boys turned to her, and Toby's eyes widened in recognition. A second later his smirk returned, wider than ever. "Aw don't worry, sweet thang, I got plenty left for you right here!" He grabbed his dick, thrusting his crotch towards her.

Two of his friends roared with laughter at that, but the smallest one, a far younger kid with a cream cocoa complexion and startling green eyes, was eyeing her worriedly. "Um, I wouldn't talk to her like that if I were you," he stage whispered. "That's Mandy!"

"So?" Toby snorted derisively.

"_Milkovich_," The kid laced her surname with dire significance. Mandy was pleased to see the smiles immediately drop off the other boys faces.

"Just for that _you_ can go, short stuff." Mandy nodded to the kid. He needed no further urging, immediately bolting away.

Mandy turned back to the far less smug gathering. Hot damn if this craptastic night hadn't just taken a screeching turn for the better. Nothing cheered up a Milkovich like fucking up a stupid piece of shit who desperately needed it. She withdrew the collapsible baton she always carried, unfolding it with a snap. "The rest of you need a little re-education. Then we're going to talk about Debbie Gallagher. Specifically, how you are going to stay the fuck away from her."

She nearly laughed as they tried to rush her, and then there were only the sound of blows landing and grunts of pain.

Music to her ears.

Dark had well and truly fallen by the time Mandy got home. It hadn't taken her that long to deal with Toby and his dumbass friends. She had a couple of minor bruises from where they'd tried to jump her, but the only significant pain she felt was the muscles cramping in her hands from squeezing the baton too tightly. Their attempts at self defense had been laughable at best. She'd only had to hit Toby's friends a couple of times before they abandoned him, and she'd saved the majority of her punishment for him.

She may taken it just a little too far, hit harder than she had intended, let it go on for too long. It wasn't until he was begging for mercy that she'd finally let up. Well, it was his own fucking fault and she refused to feel bad about it. At least she knew Debbie was safe from him now.

She was surprised to see the kitchen light on and Mickey sitting at their tiny card table. Hmm; it was later than she thought if he was already home. He was flanked by Svetlana, who was leaning over him, her hand on his shoulder. She was murmuring something too quietly for Mandy to understand.

"Hey," Mandy felt a sudden chill race up her spine as she caught sight of Mickey's red rimmed eyes before he quickly glanced away. "What's wrong?"

Svetlana looked up. "Ian is gone," she said quietly.

The words were like a silent but deadly knife jab between the ribs. Mandy stumbled away from them, towards the little alcove that she called her room, shoving her way through the rattling beaded curtain and climbing onto to her bed. Ian's bed, once upon a time. Sometimes she imagined it still smelled like him. The idea used to be comforting.

She dropped down on her back, staring up at the ceiling. She didn't let herself think anything, just traced the cracks in the plaster with her eyes, counting them silently.

Her cell phone buzzed angrily. She pulled it out of her pocket, sighing when she looked at the name on the Caller ID. After a second's hesitation, she clicked it open and put it to her ear.

"Hi, Deb - "

Mandy didn't even manage to get the full greeting out before Debbie was sob-screaming a nearly incomprehensible stream into her ears. "How could you do this to me, Mandy? I thought you were my friend! Did you think it was funny, some kind of joke? Toby never wants to see me again because of you!"

Mandy didn't speak. Not like Debbie was really giving her a chance, anyway. She wasn't sure how someone could yell that loud and that long without any breaks for oxygen. " - You broke his nose, you know that?! He had to go to the ER and tell them he got mugged! You're some kind of psychopath! Why did you do it, huh? What did I ever do to you? I trusted you, you know, and you stabbed me in the back! All I ever wanted was to be like you! You just can't stand to see anyone happy, can you, because you're so fucking miserable! It's not my fault my brother dumped you! It's not my fault all you can get are losers! I hate you, Mandy Milkovich! I never want to see you again, ever!"

"I did it for you," Mandy spoke without emotion, cutting off Debbie's tirade, and her flat words seemed to jolt Debbie into silence for a moment. "You're not a tool. Don't let anyone treat you like one."

There was silence at last; all Mandy could hear was Debbie's hitched sobbing on the other end. She clutched the phone tighter. "Don't be me, Debbie. Believe me, you don't want this."

With that, she clicked off the phone and threw it aside. Once more, she stared up at the ceiling, starting over, counting the cracks anew. It was the same thing she used to do as a little girl when she couldn't sleep.

Just like then, she promised herself she wouldn't cry.

* * *

_Feedback always appreciated!_


	13. Sins of the Father

The morning after Terry's wake at the Alibi dawned in sweltering heat, like every other day for the past few months. Ian, who lacked a bed at the Gallagher house, seeing as it belonged to Mandy now, had woken up early after a restless few hours tossing and turning on the couch.

He'd been hoping for some quiet time, give him a chance to catch his breath and ponder his unhappy return home, but no such luck. It seemed as though Fiona had been lying in wait - as soon as she heard Ian moving around, she and Lip both sprung out from nowhere. He should have expected it, he supposed - he'd faked being asleep when she came home the night before, and he knew she was worried.

Now the three of them were in the kitchen, Fiona making breakfast as quietly as possible, hoping not to wake the rest of the household before she dragged out every single tidbit of Ian's sorry tale of woe.

There was a long, strained silence in the Gallagher kitchen when Ian was done speaking. Fiona and Lip exchanged a long look from where they sat across the breakfast bar from their younger brother.

"Jesus, would someone please say something?" Ian finally demanded. "I know I fucked up, ok? Let me have it - I can take it."

"Mandy? You fucked _Mandy_?!" Lip burst out.

Both Ian and Fiona stared at Lip, shocked by the rising vehemence of his voice.

"Oh, _now_ you care?" The barely banked frustration of the last few days were threatening an avalanche aimed right at Lip's fucking head. "You had Mandy every which way but loose and you dumped her! What the fuck game are you playing with her anyway? Taking Amanda on dates to the Waffle Cottage, rubbing that shit in her face, and don't think I missed the way you were staring at her last night either! Why can't you just let her go?" Ian was off his stool now, facing his older brother with his hands balled into fists.

For a second it looked like Lip was going to jump up and fire back but then his shoulders slumped. "I don't know."

Ian started to retort angrily but Fiona got up this time, jumping between them. "Hey! Everybody _calm down_!" She turned to Ian and glared at him until he reluctantly took his seat again, still firing poison dart eyes at Lip.

Satisfied that Ian was under control, Fiona turned back to Lip. "I don't know what your deal is with Mandy Milkovich but whatever game you're playing with her needs to stop. That girl has been through enough. What she needs right now is a friend, not some arrogant dipshit who only wants what he can't have."

"Always good to know what you really think of me," Lip grumbled but Fiona was already refocused on Ian as she slid back onto her stool.

"As for _you_..." She shook her head. "Exactly what the fuck were you thinking?!

"I wasn't. I was totally out of my mind. Neither of us knew what we were doing," Ian stared back down at his nearly untouched plate of bacon and eggs.

"Yeah, I get that," Fiona gave him a disgusted look. "I can't imagine what Mandy was thinking, bringing that crap around you in the first place, but you're the one who chose to take it. Did you even consider for a second what that would do to your recovery? Not to mention that it was a slap in the face to every single one of us who have fought so hard for you these past few months! Me, Lip, even Mandy, not to mention _Mickey_! Do you have any concept of what that boy has been through for you?"

"Of course I do -" Ian started to protest but Fiona was already shaking her head.

"No, I don't think you do. Ian, I don't even want to think of where you could have ended up had Mickey not brought you home. He came out to the whole south side and let his father nearly beat him to death for you! He's been there, holding your hand through every single up and down since! And he's doing all this while he's juggling a wife, a baby, and a whole shit ton of Milkovich brand baggage. You know, I used to think that Mickey wasn't ready for the level of commitment it would take to keep you guys together. Now I'm starting to think that _you're_ the one who isn't ready."

Ian flinched. "That's not fair, Fiona! I know how much of a shitshow I've been these past few months; believe me. But don't you fucking stand there and act like I haven't tried. I messed up, OK? I dropped the ball. Why does that have to wipe out everything else I've done? I thought of all people, _you'd_ understand what this feels like! At least I had the excuse of being high!"

Hurt flashed across Fiona's face and she started to turn away. Lip glared at his brother fiercely. "Nice going, asswipe."

Ian quickly reached out and grabbed Fiona's arm, stopping her. "Hey, I'm sorry. That was a low blow."

"No, it wasn't," Fiona sighed, fiddling with her ponytail. "It's true. I self destructed and I blew everything. My job, Mike..." She looked at Ian. "I just don't want you to make the same mistakes. We can only do so much." She sat back down on her stool, pulling herself closer to Ian. "You got dealt a shitty hand. It's not fair that things have to be so much harder for you. But it is what it is. You can't just do dumb shit like this without considering just how much more you have to lose."

"Yeah," Ian studied the counter again for a moment before he met her dark eyes. "Do you think I've lost Mickey?"

Fiona sighed. "I don't know. I think you are the only person in the world he's ever allowed himself to be vulnerable with. When someone gives you that kind of trust and you break it, it's a hell of a lot to forgive." She stood once more, putting a gentle hand on her brother's downcast face. "I will say this. Mickey Milkovich has surprised me more than once lately. If you're ready - _seriously_ ready to put in the work it's going to take to fix this, then I think there's hope."

She leaned down and pressed a kiss to Ian's forehead. "And with that, I am going to bow out of this conversation. I've got some errands to run, so you two are in charge of the kids," she shot a worried look upstairs. "Don't let Debbie stay in bed all day."

"Why; what's going on with her?" Ian was startled out of his own thoughts by Fiona's tone.

His sister shrugged. "You're not the only Gallagher experiencing the pangs of heartache this morning. That punk Toby dumped her out of the blue. I'm not sorry to see the back of that little hoodrat but it's going to take a while for Debbie to see she's better off. She was really upset last night. Try to cheer her up if you can," With a final wave, she headed out the back door.

"Wow," Ian rubbed his forehead. "I didn't even know she was dating someone. Guess I missed out on a lot. Kinda wrapped up in my own shit lately,"

Lip's mouth curled. Ian gave him a hard look. "You got something to say now too?"

Lip held up his hands. "Nope, I think Fiona pretty much covered it."

"Well, good," Ian snapped. "Because I wasn't through talking to you about Mandy."

Lip started to respond, but they were interrupted by the chiming of his ringtone. "Hang on," Lip picked up his phone. "Hello?" He started to move away from Ian, but swung back around abruptly, his eyebrows raising.

"Hi, _Mickey_," he gave Ian a significant look.

Ian immediately reached for the phone but Lip waved him off, still listening. "Uh, yeah. He's fine, actually. In fact, he's right here if you want to t - uh, ok. Never mind then," he clicked off the phone, tossing it back onto the counter.

"What did he say?" Ian hated the desperate, pleading tone that had crept into his voice, but he couldn't help it.

Lip shrugged. "Wanted to know if you were OK. You know, taking your meds, not disappearing to parts unknown or into the cars of dirty old men, that kind of thing, I guess."

"Why didn't you let me talk - " Ian began but Lip was already shaking his head.

"Didn't want to talk to you. Hung up as soon as I started to ask." He shook his head as Ian's face fell. "Sorry. What did you expect though, really?" He sighed, running a hand through his tangled brown hair, his gaze hardening. "Of all the people you could have fucked, Ian..."

"I know, I know…" Ian put his head in his hands.

Lip was merciful enough to let him marinate in regret quietly for a few minutes. When Ian finally looked up, his brother's expression was a mixture of concern and amusement.

"Hey, I gotta ask...that was your first time with a girl, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, so?" Ian picked up a piece of cold bacon, twirling it in his fingers before taking a bite.

"So, how was it?" Lip grinned, leaning forward. "I mean, you were still like half a virgin! Did you see the light? Decide you like a little whisker biscuit here and there?"

"What the - seriously, Lip? Half a virgin? Do you consider yourself half a virgin just because you've never had a dick up your ass?"

"Who says I haven't?" Lip grinned at Ian's expression. "OK, point taken. Still gay, then?"

"Still gay," Ian said decidedly. "I don't really even remember it. It was just kind of a blur. I don't think it was any better for Mandy, either."

Lip clenched his jaw at the mention of Mandy's name, and his face darkened.

"Lip, I know you're upset with me too, because of Mandy - "

"Because of _Mandy_?" Lip stared at him in disbelief. Ian barely caught the flash of white hot fury in his brother's eyes before Lip's fist caught him in the jaw so hard that he was knocked off the stool and onto the kitchen floor.

"Fuck!" He choked out as his mouth filled rapidly with blood. After a few seconds of heavy breathing, he managed to pull himself to a sitting position, tentatively feeling his face. For a second there, he'd really thought Lip had broken something, but no, he could still move his jaw, though not without considerable pain. The blood was from biting down hard on his tongue.

Lip's bronzed knees appeared in front of Ian's face, and then his brother knelt down next to him, his face cheerful once more. "Believe it or not, that was for _Mickey_," he patted Ian's head mockingly and stood up. "Clean yourself off, finish your breakfast, and take your pills. We're taking the kids to the pool," he stood up, and sauntered out of the kitchen, whistling, leaving Ian dumbstruck, guilt stricken, and with pieces of Liam's dropped Cheerios stuck to his knees.

* * *

"Here you go," Fiona looked up from the barstool at the Alibi as V slid a frost covered bottle of beer towards her.

"Fresh out of the freezer, just how you like 'em," V uncapped her own bottle as she joined her on the next barstool. She grinned as she watched her friend take a long swallow. "Do the boys know that your urgent errands involve spending the afternoon drinking here with me?"

Fiona grinned. "What Lip and Ian don't know won't hurt them. Besides, they both need to spend some time doing something other than worrying about who they're going to connect their genitals to." Her smile faded slightly as she set down the beer. "It kinda got to me, what Ian said, about at least he had an excuse for what he did. I mean, he's bipolar! What reasoning did I have? Do they even make pills for being a standard edition Gallagher fuck up?"

"Hey now," V leaned over, already having been filled in on the latest Gallagher drama. "First of all, Ian screwed his live in lover's sister on the couch of the apartment they share, so the boy has no room to judge anyone. Second of all, just because you don't have a diagnosable condition doesn't mean you haven't been dealing with a world of shit for far too long. I'm amazed you didn't crack years ago!" She leaned forward and squeezed Fiona's hand. "Don't be so hard on yourself. You've cleaned up, you're back to working your ass off for those kids, and not having any fun at all while you're at it. Don't you think you've punished yourself enough? Why don't you try doing something for yourself before you suffocate under all the pressure again? Maybe even try dating once in a while! I mean, they weren't all bad, were they -" she broke off abruptly, eyes widening at something behind Fiona. "Speak of the devil - look who's here!"

Fiona whirled around. To her surprise, it was Tony the Cop that V was gesturing at. He was descending the staircase that led to Mickey and Svetlana's Rub & Tug operation, a slightly baffled looking Svetlana behind him.

"Hey, Tony! Over here!" V gestured to him, smiling broadly.

"V, no!" Fiona hissed. "Thank you, but _no_. Been there, done that. I can't imagine it being any less boring the second time around."

"Alright, then," V shrugged.

Tony, who had turned a brilliant red once he realized he'd been spotted, gave the two an embarrassed wave and then without a backward glance, hurried out the front door.

"Well, damn," V leaned back on her stool and laughed. "Good thing you weren't interested, because it looks like Tony is all kinds of over you. Guess he's gone global!"

Fiona shrugged as V waved Svetlana over. "Hey, girl, is Tony a regular upstairs now? Didn't think he was the type."

Svetlana shook her head. She still looked confused. "No, today is first time. He says he wants to see me," she shrugged. "Cops do it all the time - they want freebie or they will close us down. So I tried to -" she broke off, struggling for the words as she mimed unzipping a zipper.

"You tried to free willy," V helped. "Go on."

Svetlana nodded. "But he wouldn't let me! He says he wants _date_! What does that mean?" Looking more baffled than ever, she slumped onto the next bar stool, gesturing for Kev to bring her a drink.

"It means he wants more than a quick bang," Kev dropped a shot in front of her. "You need him to spell it out for you? He likes you!"

"_Likes_ me?" Svetlana stared at him. "But why did he not want blowjob then? What kind of man turns that down? Does that mean he is gay? Because I already have one of those!"

Kev snorted before turning to V and Fiona. "Ladies, take this one, please?"

Fiona turned to Svetlana. "Tony's a nice guy, really. I think you should go for it."

"A nice guy.." Svetlana rolled the words around on her tongue dubiously, looking as though she doubted such a creature existed. "What would I do with a nice guy? What would he do with _me_?"

Fiona and V exchanged looks before V leaned forward. "Honey, haven't you ever had a boyfriend?"

Svetlana shook her head before she picked up her shot, tossing it back.

"But you've been on a date, right?" Fiona questioned.

Svetlana stared at her before she shot a significant look at the staircase leading upstairs.

"No, no, no!" V shook her head vigorously. "Pay for play does not count! A _date_ date! You know, they pick you up, take you someplace nice to eat, pay the tab, play footsie with you under the table…"

"Like in the movies?" Svetlana shrugged. "No. Not like that. Nika and I drank beer and watched movies. Sometimes she took me to mall, but that was so I could watch for security while she took things."

"Seriously, never? No guy or girl has _ever_ taken you out? How old are you?" Fiona demanded.

"Twenty-five," Svetlana paused. "I think. I lose track."

Fiona and V exchanged another long look over Svetlana's head. She looked back at Svetlana, who was moodily stirring her drink.

"Fi, forget code pink," V said out loud. "This is a Girl Code RED if I've ever seen one."

Fiona nodded vigorously. "Svetlana, get your stuff."

"Why?" Svetlana looked up in surprise. "Where are we going?"

"My house," Fiona looked at V for confirmation. "We are going to get drunk on cheap liquor, give each other bad mani-pedis, and V and I are going to talk you through the finer points of dating. Now I may not be the best one to give dating advice, but compared to a babe in the woods like you, _I'm_ the professional. "

"You got enough experience to go pro, that's for damn sure!" V cracked, and laughed at the look Fiona shot her.

Svetlana had stood up but she looked hesitant. "I am supposed to be in charge of the girls upstairs and I have Geno upstairs..."

V shrugged. "So? I've got to pick up my babies from Mama anyway; another one won't make a difference. And Mickey can handle shit upstairs, right?"

"He's not here," Svetlana bit her lip. "He said he had something to do."

"Oh. Well then..." V looked over at Kev, who was refilling Kermit's drink at the other end of the bar. "Babe, you can handle the Rub & Tug til Mickey gets here, right?"

"No!" Kev sputtered.

"That's settled then. Let's go!" V turned back to them, ignoring Kev's loud protests.

"OK,"Svetlana's first genuine smile since the conversation had begun transformed her face. "I'll get Geno," With that, she hurried away.

V turned back to Fiona. "How much you wanna bet that girl has never had a friend, either?"

"Well, she does now," Fiona replied determinedly.

"Damn straight!" V slapped Fiona a high five.

"Yes, this is all very touching," Kev snapped, walking over as V and Fiona stood up. "But there is no way in hell you all are leaving me alone with a pack of insane in the membrane Russian whores!"

V smirked. "You were the one who told us to take this one, remember? Well, we're taking it right out the front door. Besides, you'll be fine. What's the worst that could happen?"

Svetlana rejoined them at that moment, Geno in her arms.

Just then, there was a near hysterical shriek from the top of the stairs. A half dressed Russian hooker with tattered blond extensions and a world weary expression emerged, a fully naked man dancing in pain beside her, holding his crotch and wailing in agony. "Sveta," the girl called down. "Irina mixed up the lube and the athletic rub again!"

"That's all you, Kev!" V grabbed Svetlana's arm and hustled her towards the front.

"Remember, Kev," Fiona yelled over her shoulder, grinning at Kev's horrified face. "Keep your pimp hand strong!"

With that the three of them ducked out the door and ran, laughing, all the way down the alley.

* * *

Mickey paused on the walkway that led to the police station, staring ahead of him at the ominous glass doors. He could walk through them a free man, but that didn't mean he was going to be able to walk out the same way.

Of course, he was jumping the gun with his pessimistic thinking. Yeah, the DNA test results were doing to swing him faster than a game of hangman, but they wouldn't be back for weeks, even months. He still had some time. He could split before they even took the fucking sample, head to Mexico or some shit. How much effort would they really put into finding him, anyway? It wasn't like anyone in law enforcement really gave a shit about some South Side drug dealing thug's death anyway. They'd barely been able to pretend to care enough to go through the motions so far.

So, yeah. Mickey could run. He could do a lot of things besides walk into that building and willingly let some unpaid city schmuck stick a cotton swab in his mouth.

But where would that leave Svetlana? Geno? Where the fuck would that leave _him_? Hiding in the shadows, looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life? Leaving behind everyone he ever cared about to save his own skin?

Leave _Ian_? Letting him find out that Mickey really was the coward he'd always fought so hard against being?

Fuck it. One dead man walking, coming right up. Mickey squared his shoulders and shoved the door open.

A few mumbled words to the desk cop on duty, and he was waved down the hallway to a waiting room full of scarred plastic chairs.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" A familiar voice snapped as he entered. His brothers Joey and Colin were already seated, but they stood up now to face him, Joey cracking his knuckles in a way that was supposed to be menacing.

"Same as you, shit for brains. DNA test." Ignoring their twin glowers, Mickey moved across the room and slumped into a seat along the opposing wall.

"Ass bandit!" He heard Colin cough loudly as he and Joey sat back down as well. The two snickered loudly.

"Clever," he snapped. "Go look up some more ways to say I'm gay, why don't you? I heard that one already."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his brothers' smiles drop. Their expressions turned menacing as they leaned towards him.

"If Dad were here, he'd put a stop to this. He wouldn't let any one of his kids prance around calling themselves a fucking fairy," Colin's voice was low and harsh.

"Well, he ain't here. He's dead. Times change." Mickey could feel himself tighten defensively. Not wanting them to see they were getting to him, he faked casualness, picking up a magazine from the chipped coffee table in front of him and snapping it open.

"Maybe we'll just have to step up and teach you a lesson all by ourselves," Joey shared a smirk with Colin. "Leave you crying on the floor just like we did with Iggy."

Mickey's head snapped up and the magazine slid from his hands. "You did that?" he whispered. "You helped Dad fuck him up like that?"

Joey and Colin both grinned broadly as if they couldn't be prouder of themselves. "Oh, come on, Mickey, you remember how Milkoviches play Kick The Can, don't you? You spent an awful lot of time being the can until you learned how to fight back. Iggy needed a reminder of how to play."

"You sorry ass, motherfucking pieces of shit!" Mickey was back on his feet. "Have you even seen him? You nearly fucking killed him!"

"He'll live," Colin shrugged nonchalantly, and Mickey would have launched himself across the room at him if Detective Simmons hadn't decided on that very moment to stroll into the waiting room.

"Thank you all for coming -" The weary looking black man broke off as he took in Mickey's clenched fists and Joey and Colin's defensive stances. "Is there a problem here?"

"No," Mickey nearly bit off the words, struggling to put a damper on his rage. Wrong time, wrong place, but goddamn, his fucking wanna-be Terry clone brothers were going to pay for this. "Let's get this shit over with."

Detective Simmons took a deep breath. "Actually, the DNA tests will no longer be necessary. I'm sorry that you all had to waste time coming out here but -"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Joey burst out.

Detective Simmons held up his hands. "Please, there's no reason to get upset. We just had a little mix up, I'm afraid," he broke off, rubbing the beads of sweat that had appeared on his forehead. "The DNA samples from your father's body were contaminated during transit. It was a very regrettable error, and the officer involved has been disciplined. Regardless, we can no longer use them. Now, I don't feel it will make any difference, given the strong case we already have against the men we've arrested but -"

"Are you fucking kidding me? You fucked up evidence that could convict our father's murderers?" Colin and Joey were shouting now, and Mickey saw officers appearing as if summoned from every corner. "You incompetent pig fuckers! You don't even give a shit, do you?"

"There's no need for this; settle down, please!" Detective Simmons tried desperately for calm but it was like waving a red flag in front of two angry bulls. Colin charged, and Joey was hot on his heels. Before they reached the detective, other police officers had raced into action, throwing themselves into the beginning fray and wrestling the fighting Milkovich brothers' hands behind their backs to be cuffed.

"Mickey!" Joey yelled as he tried to fight off the two officers. "Fucking help us!"

Mickey stayed right where he was. "Yeah, sure, I'll help," he looked at the officers who were struggling to contain his brothers. "Hey, watch yourselves - they keep shivs in their socks!"

At his words, there was a rush of blue and he watched at least ten officers dogpile his brothers until all he could see of them was a waving arm or leg. One officer knelt on Colin's back as he unsnapped his Taser, and Mickey grinned at the subsequent howl of pain.

Detective Simmons sighed as he watched, before he turned to Mickey. "We'll throw them in holding until they calm down, and then we'll let them go, barring the absence of shivs, of course."

"Ain't no skin off my back," Mickey shrugged. "So...I can go?"

"Of course," Detective Simmons shook his hand absently, his eyes already back on the fray. "If there are any other developments, I'll be in touch."

Jesus fucking christ, Mickey thought to himself as he strolled down the corridor. What a stroke of fucking luck that was. One clumsy cop, and he was off the hook.

His hands were shaking with relief as he stopped to pull his cell phone out of his pocket. He had to call Svetlana, figure out with her how they were going to squeeze Iggy into their apartment when he got out of the hospital. No way could Mickey let him go back to their father's house with Colin and Joey now.

Just as he started to dial, Mickey realized he wasn't alone. Just around the corner, someone was talking in low tones. Mickey started to walk past, but his steps slowed as he recognized Officer O'Neill, who was talking on his own cell phone, his back to Mickey.

"Carlos, calm down. It went better than I expected. I just got desk duty for a few weeks, that's all. You should have seen Simmon's face when he heard - he wanted me fired. Nobody cared about his opinion though, just like I told you. Good news is I'll be home for dinner a lot more, right?" he listened for a moment, then laughed. "Yeah, I think this does call for a celebration. I'll be there in twenty." With that, he clicked off the phone, then turned, looking surprised to see Mickey standing there.

"You are fucking _shitting_ me!" Mickey was too shocked to consider what he was saying. "It was _you_! You fucked up the samples on purpose!"

Officer O'Neill shot a nervous glance up and down the corridor. "Walk with me, kid," he clapped a hand on Mickey's back, ushering him down the hallway to quieter quarters.

They strolled in silence for a moment as Mickey's tumultuous thoughts roared around his head and he struggled with what to say. "I…why..." he started and then gave up with a sigh.

They reached the end of the corridor and Officer O'Neill turned to him. "I'm just going to take that constipated look on your face for thanks since it looks like it would cause you actual physical pain to say it out loud."

Mickey started to speak and the older man held his hand up to forestall him. "You don't really need to ask me why, do you? I've been around men like your father all my life. I have the scars to prove it, and I've been at the crime scenes of far too many of their victims. This is the one time I can do something about it. So look at it this way. You got dealt a shitty hand in life, and I think you've been long past due a break," he took a deep breath. "I think I've earned the right to ask you for one favor in return. Remember this is the oly second chance you're going to get. Don't blow it."

"I won't," Mickey took a deep breath as he looked the man directly in the eyes. "Thank you."

Officer O'Neill smiled at that, pulling a small card out of his pocket and writing something on the back before handing it to him. "My husband Carlos owns Gordo's restaurant on 5th. Bring your 'modern family' in for dinner sometime. He'd get quite a kick out of you guys," he handed the card to Mickey. "My cell number's on the back. Next time you find yourself neck deep in shit, call me before you do something stupid, OK?" With a grin, he gave Mickey a final slap on the back and strolled back the way they came, disappearing around a corner.

Leaving Mickey standing there, open mouthed with astonishment.

Apparently, there really was a God after all.

* * *

_Our Mickey really was long past due a break, wasn't he?_

_Thank you so much for reading! Feedback always appreciated!_


	14. The Helping Hand

It had not been an easy night.

Mickey's euphoria over the spectre of impending lifelong incarceration being lifted was hard to maintain when he'd come home that evening to a screaming, red faced baby and the wild eyed stares of Svetlana & Mandy, who'd clearly endured all they could take. The three of them spent the rest of the night doing everything they could to calm Geno, to no avail. Mickey'd tried his knuckle trick until he could have sworn he felt the first aches of early onset arthritis kicking in; he'd even done his share of walking and rocking the kid, but nothing seemed to help.

Svetlana blamed it on the teething. Mickey and Mandy had both pretended to agree, but all three of them knew what the deal was. Geno wanted Ian back.

He wasn't the only one.

It wasn't until the clock had gone from double back to single digits that Geno finally cried himself into exhaustion. By that point, Mickey had been too keyed up to sleep. He spent a couple of hours drinking and trying to remind himself about his lucky break.

Trying to ignore the fact that the luckiest break of his life didn't mean a fucking thing when the person he wanted to share it with the most wasn't around.

Mickey had finally fallen into a restless slumber on the couch sometime around when dawn had begun to light the shadows. Unconsciousness; the lack of ability to think and feel was a merciful relief when it came at last.

So it was most unwelcome when the persistent rapping at the front door woke him up.

He tried to ignore it at first, hoping Svetlana or Mandy would get it instead, but they seemed to be well insulated in their rooms and he was practically five feet from the damn front door. Grumbling to himself, he finally shuffled over and threw it open.

"Good morning, Mickey," Fiona Gallagher was standing there, smiling, holding a brown paper bag.

Instant alarm bells went off. "What's going on? Is it Ian? He OK or - "

Fiona was smiling just a little too knowingly at his alarm. She was already shaking her head though, and he slumped in relief. "He's fine."

"What the fuck do you want then?" he snapped, two seconds away from closing the door in her face. He was so not in the fucking mood for a Fiona lecture right now.

Fiona sighed. "Can you glower at me from inside your apartment? It smells like piss out here and I'm afraid I'm going to get mugged," she shot a leery look down the building's hallway.

"Fine," he stepped back, allowing her to enter and close the door behind her.

"I brought you some things for Geno," Without being invited, Fiona headed straight for the tiny kitchenette and began to unpack the bag she carried. "Figured he was probably moving into the 6-9 months size range, so here's some more of Liam's old clothes," she passed him a neatly folded stack of brightly colored clothing. "And I figured you must be running low on teething biscuits, so I got some more of those too, and another tube of Orajel. OK if I just leave that stuff on the counter?" Without waiting for an answer, she balled up the now empty bag and tossed it into the kitchen trash. "Good!" she looked around at the cluttered counters, than at the stove. "Want me to make you some pancakes? I seem to recall you like them."

Mickey tossed the clothing she'd handed to him onto the couch and followed her into the kitchen. "Fiona," he said through clenched teeth. "What. The. Fuck. Do. You. Want?"

Fiona turned to face him, too bright smile dropping. "Ian told us what happened. With him and Mandy, I mean."

"Great," Mickey turned away from her. "And I'll bet you couldn't wait to come right over and tell me all the ways in which it's my fault this shit happened, right?"

"No!" Fiona had the nerve to actually look offended at that. "I just -" she sighed. "Look, I realize I haven't always been the most...supportive of you guys. I gave you a lot of shit and I probably made things harder on you when you were just trying to take care of Ian. That really wasn't my intention. I just wanted what was best for him. I think I realize now that the best thing for him has been you."

Mickey opened his mouth and then closed it again, no clue how to respond to that unexpected tidbit.

Fiona smiled slightly at the expression on his face. "Without you, I don't know where Ian would be right now. You saved him, in more ways than one. I want to thank you for that."

"Yeah, whatever," Mickey rubbed the back of his neck. "I didn't do it for you, or your thanks."

"I know," Fiona leaned back against the wall, crossing her arms. "It doesn't change what you did and I'm not going to forget it, just because you and Ian aren't together right now. I know you're hurting. I'm not going to pretend that doesn't matter to me."

Mickey started to speak, even before he really knew what he was going to say, but Fiona stepped forward, stopping him. "I'm not here to give you advice, or try to tell you to forgive him. I don't have the right. That's something that you two need to work out, or not work out, all on your own. I'm here because I want to tell you that I am incredibly proud of you. Not just for what you've done for Ian. For what you've done for _you_. You have come so far from everything your father tried to mold you into. You've been a rock for everyone around you, and I have to say, I'm impressed."

With that, she stepped even closer, seeming amused at Mickey's tongue tied state. "And now I'm going to hug you. I usually don't feel the need to warn people first, but I really don't want to be punched in the face."

"Uh…" More than slightly alarmed by the sentimental incline he now found himself balancing on, Mickey tried to back away, but Fiona grasped his arms firmly before she wrapped her arms around him. He didn't hug her back, but she didn't seem to expect him too. She kept the embrace brief, but heartfelt.

"Uh, ok…" he managed to get out when she stepped back. "So...you said what you came to say, so I guess you can, uh…" he looked towards the front door but Fiona wasn't paying attention. She was looking around the apartment again, head cocked, face both contemplative and critical.

"Isn't it like a law now that carpets have to be replaced before new tenants move in?" She traced the worn carpet underneath her feet with a sneaker. "Not that slumlords really seem to care about that shit around here, but I'll bet we could intimidate your building manager into doing a few repairs, have Lip throw some legalese at them or something. Would be safer for Geno to crawl around on, right? This floor is probably full of loose staples and God knows what else." She turned back towards the kitchen. "So how about those pancakes?"

Mickey gritted his teeth. "One, I don't have any pancake mix. Two, you already said your piece. Why are you still here?"

"I told you," Fiona put her hands on her hips. "You were there when my family needed you. Now I'm going to return the favor."

"Who says I need you?" Mickey snapped back.

Fiona sighed. "You know, you don't have to handle everything by yourself," her words were eerily parallel to Ian's, and Mickey shifted uncomfortably. "You've got a lot going on. Your dad just died, Mandy's having issues, you're raising your little brother as your own so his illegal immigrant mother can stay in the country - it's not a crime to need help."

"Wait -" Mickey broke in. "What did you just say?" he stared at her. "Did Ian tell you that?"

"No," Fiona shook her head. "Svetlana did," she shrugged at his thunderstruck expression. "You know, your _wife_. Tallish, brown hair, pretty in a 'I'll cut your throat' kinda way, tragic life story like something out of Les Miserables, any of that ringing a bell?"

"Cute," he tossed back. "Since when are you two so buddy buddy?"

Fiona wrinkled her nose at him. "I'm discovering Milkoviches are like ringworm. You're contagious, you get under the skin, and you're hard as hell to get rid of."

"Look who's talking," he shot back. "Gallaghers are like roaches, You see one, you know there's ten more around the corner."

"Now you're getting it," Fiona grinned. "And since it looks like we're stuck with each other, we might as well make the best of it." She plopped herself onto the couch. "And I'm not leaving, not until you let me help you. Come on, give me _one_ thing I can do. That's all I ask."

"I don't need your help!" Mickey burst out, beyond frustrated. Fucking hell - what was it with Fiona and her mommy complex?

"Oh, this is going to be a long day," Fuck him if Fiona wasn't stretching out on what had been his bed, and putting her feet up on the opposite end of the couch. She dug out her phone to look at the display. "Well, not so much a day. I have to be at the diner at two. It still gives us a few hours to kill. How can we pass the time, I wonder?" she looked again at her phone. "Ooh, check it out - Debbie downloaded a karaoke app. How do you feel about Lady Gaga?"

"Oh, hell the fuck no!" Mickey looked around desperately, before he returned his gaze to Fiona as she adjusted her position on the tattered red plaid couch. "A sofa bed," he blurted out.

"Excuse me?" Fiona sat up, raising her eyebrows.

"I need a sofa bed. Iggy's getting out of the hospital in a couple of days, and we're a bed short. I'm going to give him mine, but that couch is uncomfortable as fuck for sleeping."

"A sofa bed," Fiona mused, standing up. She smiled. "I can do that. I think I saw a couple in the Penny Saver. Sheila might have a lead on one too; she's insane about yard sales, among other things."

"OK, great, that's settled," Relieved, Mickey opened the front door and Fiona sauntered through it, looking far more smug than Mickey felt she had any right to be.

She turned back to face him from the hallway. "I'll be back tomorrow morning!"

Mickey groaned, and slammed the door shut on her smiling face. A second later it flew open again, and Fiona stuck her head back in, grinning wider than ever. "With pancake mix!" She slammed the door shut again before he could retort, and he could have sworn he heard her giggling.

He would never have admitted to anyone later, would have denied it under pain of torture or threats of listening to Poker Face on repeat for twenty four hours straight, but he was smiling too.


	15. You Should Know Me Better Than That

It was just after midnight when Mandy reached the front door of the apartment. She paused a minute before unlocking the door, listening, but mercifully she heard nothing. Either Geno was finally sleeping or Mickey and Svetlana had sold him for cash. She couldn't exactly blame them if they had, not after the screamfest of the last forty-eight hours. Geno had a set of lungs on him even a banshee would envy.

Even worse than listening to Geno's endless shrieks was knowing the reason behind them. She could pretend all she wanted, but he wasn't crying because his teeth hurt. He was crying for the same reason she wanted to - the enormous Grand Canyon size chasm that had opened up in all their lives.

Because of her. She'd taken Ian away from Geno. She'd taken him away from _Mickey_.

Mandy took another deep breath and smoothed down the polyester of her Waffle Cottage uniform nervously. God, she just wanted to turn around and run back the other way. She didn't know if she could handle another night of the deadness in Mickey's eyes when he looked at her, which wasn't often. She'd almost prefer that he'd lose his shit at her, scream, call her a whore, throw things...anything would be better than the emptiness. The feeling that they were irrevocably shattered, Humpty Dumpty scattered on the pavement, no hope of repair.

With one final deep breath, Mandy unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping inside.

To her relief, Mickey was nowhere in sight. The relief was quickly swallowed up by renewed tension when she saw who _was_ around: Svetlana sat slumped in the corner of the couch, her eyes closed, head propped in one hand. Next to her, Geno lay sleeping on his back, his legs covered by a light blue blanket.

Mandy bit her lip. She hadn't really spoken to her sister-in-law since the day she'd found out about Terry's death. The day she'd nearly attacked Svetlana and called her a murderer.

After a moment's hesitation, she decided to creep by as quietly as possible, and hopefully make it behind the safety of her bedroom curtain without having to confront anyone.

Easier said than done. As soon as the light squeak of her footsteps sounded, Svetlana's eyes flickered and then opened as she came out of her upright doze. She looked confused for a minute, then her eyes lit on the younger woman and her expression became remote, suspicious, as if expecting an attack at any moment.

"Um…" Mandy moistened her dry lips. "Why are you out here instead of in bed?"

Svetlana shrugged, weariness evident in every gesture she made. "This is where he fell asleep. I did not want to move him," she looked down at her son, and her features transformed into a tenderness that was transfixing to watch.

After a moment, she looked back at Mandy, her expression becoming leery once more. She stood up, and began to bend down to pick Geno up.

"I forgive you," Mandy blurted out, no thought before the words came tumbling out of her mouth. Svetlana straightened up, leaving Geno where he was. Her expression was startled.

"I mean…for what you did, to my dad - shit," Mandy broke off. "That's not really what I meant."

Svetlana pressed her lips together tightly. "I did not ask for your forgiveness. I did not have a choice in what I did. And I am not sorry," With that, she started to turn away, but Mandy grabbed her arm.

"Hey!" she gentled her voice as Geno stirred restlessly. "He was still my dad. You can't ask me to not be upset. You can't pretend that I shouldn't feel -" to her humiliation, her voice cracked.

Svetlana's face softened. "I know," she murmured. "I know."

"No, you don't!" Mandy burst out. Once again, her voice was louder than she meant it to be, but this time, she couldn't seem to reel herself back. "You don't know at all! You don't know because what I feel is -" she broke off, feeling herself start to shake.

"What?" Svetlana reached out and gripped Mandy's forearm gently.

"Relieved," Mandy choked out. "I'm so fucking happy he's dead. I hated him so much. I hated what he did to me. I hate the way I still wake up at night thinking he's coming into my room. I hate the way that sometimes when someone else's hands are on me, all I can feel are his. I hate that he fucked me up, and he fucked my brothers up, and I really believed that he was the only person in this world that really loved me." she was laughing now, in short, hysterical bursts. "I think I was more angry that you were the one who got to do it, and not me."

"Mandy, shhh," Svetlana's voice was soft, comforting, the way she murmured to Geno on sleepless nights. She took both of Mandy's hands in her own, squeezing gently. "You're OK now. It's all OK."

After a long moment, Mandy pulled away, suddenly embarrassed. She wiped at her flushed, damp face. "Anyway, I just…" she took a deep breath before the urge to run away overcame what she really wanted to say. "Thank you. Not for - this," she gestured at herself awkwardly. "For saving Mickey. I don't know what I would have done if Terry…" her face started to crumple again and she couldn't complete the sentence.

"I understand," Svetlana was looking almost as shaky as Mandy felt. They exchanged tremulous smiles and Svetlana reached out to brush away an errant tear that Mandy hadn't even realized was there.

The moment was abruptly rear ended by the sound of a door swinging open. Mandy jumped, turning to see Mickey framed in his bedroom doorway, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Is that you two making all that fucking noise? Would you mind shutting the fuck up before Sir Howl a Lot starts screaming again?"

For a moment, it was almost like old times. Mandy felt her mouth turn up as she started to retort, but Mickey's eyes fixed on her as if he'd suddenly remembered who he was talking to, and his face went cold and flat. He stalked past her without another glance, going into the kitchen and yanking open the refrigerator door. Mandy heard the click of a bottle, and the hiss as it was opened.

She started to turn away, towards her room, but Svetlana was fixing her with a significant look and then nodding her head towards the kitchen.

"I can't…" she whispered.

"You could try. You could do that much for him," Svetlana's face was resolute. She didn't wait to see what Mandy would do next, just scooped up Geno in her arms and disappeared into the bedroom before Mandy could find the words to call her back.

She eyed Mickey's rigid back as he stood away from her, swigging out of the bottle in front of the still open fridge door.

No, she couldn't. She already felt drained by the conversation with Svetlana. Now she was just supposed to go in there and let Mickey unload on her with both barrels? Fuck that; she was going to bed.

Her feet didn't seem to be listening, already walking towards the kitchen, and since the rest of her body was attached, she didn't seem to have much choice except to go along with it.

Just as she walked into the kitchen, Mickey slammed the fridge shut and turned to walk out, beer still clutched in his hand. He froze as he saw her there.

"Mickey," Mandy took a steadying breath. "We need to talk."

* * *

Mickey stared at his sister's pallid face. Her eyes were red, and her eyeliner was smeared in blurry shadows.

"Did you hear me?" she demanded after a long moment. "We need to talk."

"No," he snapped, and started to move past her, but she shifted, blocking his way.

"Mandy, move!" God, didn't she get it? The fact that they hadn't talked was the only thing that was still keeping the both of them here, together. Once the silence was broken, when it all spilled over and they were ripping out each other's guts, when everything he'd wanted to tell her for days came spilling out, how did they come back from that?

He didn't know. He didn't want to find out.

"Mickey…" she croaked out as he tried to push past her once again. "_Please._"

"You want to talk," he couldn't help the bitter laugh. The tide was rising; it was coming in to submerge them both, and he couldn't stop it now. "What could you possibly say, Mandy? You didn't mean it? You were high? You accidentally tripped and fell on my boyfriend's dick?"

Mutely, Mandy shook her head. Her eyes were filling rapidly with tears.

"Oh, _now_ you have nothing to say? Well, how about this, Mandy? Tell me _why_. Tell me what the fuck I did that was so bad that you would do this to me."

She shook her head. "You didn't -" she started to protest, but he was advancing on her, backing her up, his face inches from hers.

"Fucking tell me!"

"You took him away from me!" she yelled back, and the words froze both of them. They just stood there, face to face, breathing hard, until she sucked in a breath and continued.

"You took Ian away. He was mine before he was ever yours. He was my best friend, and he was my boyfriend. Maybe that was just a joke to him, and Lip too, but it was real for me. And you knew that! You always fucking knew it! And you just came along and took him away from me anyway. It was _so_ easy for you, and you didn't even want him!"

Mickey clenched his fingers so tight around the Budweiser bottle he was holding that it threatened to crack. "You have no fucking idea what you are talking about. You don't know how I felt!"

"I know how it looked to me. I know how it looked to _him_!" Mandy was merciless now. She whirled away from Mickey, but the words were still spilling out, dropping like coins from a jackpot hitting slot machine. "I hated listening to him talk about this worthless piece of shit he was so starry eyed over who wouldn't even talk to him in public. You walked away and broke his heart again and again, when I would have sold my soul to be that important to someone!"

She laughed breathlessly at this, no real mirth in her tone. "And when I found out it had been _you_ all along, I didn't know what to do with all that hate. So I just - stuffed it, I guess. I tried to understand how hard it was for you. And when you finally got your shit together, I wanted so bad to just be happy for you both, but all I could see whenever you touched each other is something else that I will _never, ever_ have!" Her voice rose and broke.

Instinctively, Mickey reached for her but she backed away.

"Mandy, you don't fucking know that. You're eighteen years old. You've got time! What makes you think there's not someone out there for you?"

The utter despair in her laughter pierced him sharply. "Me? _Mandy Skankovich?_ Who could ever love me like Ian loves you, or the way Lip loved Karen, or even the way your fucking hooker wife loves Geno?" Finally, she looked at him again. "I just wanted one moment where Ian was mine again. One moment where I could pretend."

"Jesus...Mandy," Mickey turned away from her, bracing himself on the counter. "What the fuck do you want from me? An apology? For trying to be happy?" he turned back to her. "So you wanted him to be yours again. Congratulations, you've got him all to yourself now."

"Mickey..." It was just a whisper this time.

"I don't need to hear any more of this," Mickey grabbed his beer, turned, and hurled it into the sink. Mandy jumped as it shattered into a hundred pieces, scattering stinking brown foam in all directions.

"Mickey, wait!"

He shook her off as she tried to grab his arm. "Get away from me!"

_"Mickey!"_ It was the tone of her cry that forced him to look back at her.

"Please..." she whispered, and her face crumpled. "I'm so sorry."

It was his turn to laugh bitterly. "Yeah, I can tell by the way you just tried to blame it all on me."

"Please..." she said again, and now he could hear her breaking, see it in her face, so clearly that he almost could see the cracks. "I can't lose anyone else. I can't lose _you_. You're all I have now. _Please_."

He tried hard to keep his face cold and impassive, but she was melting onto the kitchen floor, staring up at him as if he were manning the last lifeboat thrown off the Titanic and she was clawing for his lifeline.

"You want me to beg for forgiveness? Is that what you need?" She was on her knees now in front of him. "I wasn't trying to blame you. I know the way I think is fucked up. Everything I do is fucked," Mandy wrapped her arms around herself, and he could see the tremors that were rampaging her. "It just hurts. All the time. Everything hurts. All I know how to do is make everyone around me hurt too," she was sobbing now, and he'd never heard her cry like that, not even the night their mother died, anguished, animalistic sounds tearing out of her.

"Get up," he bit out as he watched her dissolve even further. "C'mon Mandy. Get up. Get the fuck up!"

Her hands were over her head now, burying her face in her lap, and she was rocking back and forth, gasping for breath in between sobs, and he knew she couldn't hear him.

"Dammit, Mandy..." Mickey hands were clenched, as they so often were, into fists. He wanted to hit something, fight her demons, fight his, make it all stop and go away the only way he knew how.

But there was nothing left to fight.

There was just him. Her. And they were both broken just the same.

"OK," Mickey sank onto the floor next to his sister, and after a moment's hesitation, he dragged her into him. For a second, she resisted, and then she turned her wet face and buried it against his shoulder. For a second he hesitated, then he wrapped both arms around her. She was shaking violently, reminding him of the night Svetlana had crawled into his bed in a similar state. "Goddammit, Mandy," he whispered into her hair. "You want to know who loves you unconditionally? Who will forgive you for anything, no matter what? _Me_, you fucking idiot. You got me. I'm not going anywhere."

Her shoulders spasmed at that, and he couldn't tell whether she was laughing or crying harder. He sighed. "C'mon. Chill the fuck out."

Mandy lifted her head then. Her face was streaked with tears. "Mickey," she whispered. "I really am sorry. What I did - you didn't deserve that. I just...I don't know how to make it right."

"You can't make it right," the words were said without malice. "No take backs. What's done is done," he looked at her. "I forgive you. Seriously. I know you weren't in your right mind. You haven't been for a while, and it's got fuck all to do with whatever drugs you took. I've been there, and I get it, OK? I know you didn't set out to fuck me over. The thing is -" he stopped, rubbing his face. "I fucking have feelings, Mandy. Just because I don't talk about touchy-feely shit, or blubber all over people's shirts - " he looked down at his black t-shirt, soggy with tears and snot, "doesn't mean that I don't feel anything. It doesn't mean you can't hurt me. And you did. You really fucking did."

"I know. I know I did," Hesitantly, Mandy touched his face. "I'm so -"

"Don't say it again," Mickey shook his head. "Sorry doesn't do shit for me, Mandy. What I want from you," gently he pushed her away and stood up, then reached down a hand to pull her to her feet. "Is for you to get your shit together. Because…" he paused again, remembering Fiona's words to him earlier today, remembering what Ian had said to him weeks ago. "I need you. I need you in this with me. If we're going to make this work, I gotta know that you have my back; that I can trust you. And if you can't do that, then I need you to get the fuck out."

Mandy flinched at his words, but Mickey reached out and touched her chin, forcing her to look at him. "I already got two siblings that would stab me in the back as quick as look at me. I don't need a third. I don't want to do this alone, but I will if I have to."

"Mickey…" Hesitantly, Mandy reached for his hand. "You're not alone. You got me. I'm not going anywhere," she echoed his previous words. "I promise."

He actually managed to smile at that, squeezing her fingers in his. "OK, then. Can we please try to get some sleep before Geno the Great and Terrible summons us again?"

"Yeah," she pulled away from him, but she was smiling now through the tears. "We'll talk about this in the morning then?"

"Fuck no," Mickey scratched his nose. "I said what I gotta say. I'm not draggin' this shit out."

"OK," Mandy turned to go towards her room, then turned back, hesitantly biting her lip. "Mickey, about Ian…"

He closed his eyes. "Don't. Just...don't,"

She studied him for a long moment. "Alright. Goodnight, Mickey."

He watched her go, then turned and headed towards his room, to sleep on his half of an empty bed. Alone.

But not as alone as he had been when the day started. And in a fucked up world like this one, that had to count for something.


End file.
